


Dating in the Dark

by LustOnMyFingers



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Actually Incest, Angst, Anonymous Sex, Aunt/Nephew Incest, Blind Date, Car Sex, Caught, Disguised, Dubious Consent, F/M, Fluff, Forbidden Love, Foreplay, Incest, Jonerys Week, Jonerys Week 2018, Modern AU, Passion, Romance, Semi-Public Sex, Sex in a Car, Smut, Taboo, jonerysweek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-03-27 23:46:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 31,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13891683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LustOnMyFingers/pseuds/LustOnMyFingers
Summary: Dragged to a peculiar party by his friends, the reluctant Jon Snow gets much more than he bargained for during an anonymous 'date in the dark' with a captivating woman who seems eerily familiar to him. After solving the riddle of her identity, Jon must decide whether to capitalize on their chemistry under the guise of ignorance, or to come clean about his identity and the true nature of their relationship before things go too far.





	1. A Light in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FourTrisHEA](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FourTrisHEA/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally and tirelessly written for the Jonerys Valentine's Week event over on Tumblr, though my brain broke before I could make the deadline. And so, it sat tucked away, to be later revived for Jonerys Week - Modern AU prompt. The original prompts also included: Actually Incest/Forbidden Love/Disguise.
> 
> This fic comes at the behest of my good pal FourTrisHEA. And so, it is dedicated to her, as well as influenced heavily by her style. Many thanks for suggesting the idea and helping me shape it to fit my comfort zone as well as the prompt! It's my first crack at Modern AU and I have zero idea what I'm doing! So please, go easy on me. 
> 
> If you enjoy this at all, please direct your thanks to FourTrisHEA, Longerclaw, DaenerysSnow and atetheredmind, all of whom encouraged me *not* to scrap this nonsense (you are all too kind to me and I don't deserve you at all!) as well as bully me into expanding the smut. ;D
> 
> **No, but seriously. If the incest rubs you the wrong way, this fic might not be for you!**
> 
> Otherwise, have at it, perverts!

 

* * *

 

With his stomach already twisting itself into knots, Jon clutched his steering wheel at ten-and-two. His nervousness insisted he carefully obey every traffic law as if his friend Pyp, who sat beside him, had been a driving instructor. Time and time again, his work colleague and his cousin, Robb, would try to drag him out on his rare nights off, though he always declined their offers to help him pick up women at clubs or bars. It came so easily for them. Robb, with his natural charm and good looks— _God, the girls loved him_. Pyp, though you wouldn't think it, had been something of a ladies' man, himself—and any woman who heard him sing had been a goner. Jon had no idea why either would resort to this sort of ridiculous spectacle, having no trouble at all picking up girls normally.

 

Perhaps it was merely morbid curiosity, same as his. Robb had managed to obtain three invites for a very exclusive party of sorts, held at some estate on the edge of the city. One of his friends was hosting it, and came up with the strange idea based on some dating show. _Dating in the Dark_. It was more or less an experiment disguised as a party, the conclusion of which would be the topic of some presentation, all participants promised to remain anonymous.

 

From what Jon had understood, they'd be blindfolded and paired up with women in private rooms to get to know one another over the course of an hour. After submitting a questionnaire, the hosts would divide the men and women into couples based on their compatibility, which meant participants might just end up with someone who wasn't necessarily their _type_ , but might be a good match nonetheless.

 

Unsure he even had a type, Jon's mind began to wander, inevitably to his ex-girlfriend. After his last relationship, he had been in no rush to date. It ended as poorly as one could imagine, both left nearly wounded after an explosive breakup. She could never accept that Jon had chosen both his internship and his studies 'over her'. Though he'd given her virtually all of his free time, he wasn't about to sacrifice his future for the sake of a few extra hours with her each day—it would be too a heavy price to pay later on.

 

He knew if he entered into another relationship, the girl would likely end up just as upset that he didn't have enough spare time to devote. Whatever spare time he did have, usually went to his most loyal companion, Ghost, his giant white husky. Jon used most of his extra spending money to afford a weekly dog walker so Ghost wouldn't be alone and cooped up all day. With no extra time or money, he really had nothing left to offer. But, perhaps if he attended this twisted party, Robb and Pyp would stop harassing him to go out, once and for all.

 

Finally, they'd reached their destination—a sprawling, crescent-shaped mansion with a garage on either side. The instructions say that the men should arrive at the east gate, and the women to the west. The hosts didn't want either group running any risk of meeting prior to their dates. The gate raised and Jon slowly pulled up, parking just behind a large vehicle. Another car pulled up and trapped him in, reminding him there was literally no way to back out now.

 

"I'm not sure about this, guys," he said. "This isn't some _swinging_ party, is it?"

 

Pyp snickered from the passenger seat while browsing women on some dating app, " _I wish_. It's been _too_ long since I've been inside a woman."

 

Unable to help cringing, Jon chided his friend, "You haven't even met your date for the night and you're already scheming up a contingency plan? What if she's the girl of your dreams?"

 

" _Just_ keeping my options open," he said, ogling the profile photo of a large-chested woman, who he then swiped right on.

 

Rolling his eyes, Jon removed his seatbelt. He gave himself an internal pep talk before heading in. _It's just for an hour, and then you can leave and get back home to Ghost._

 

Jon exited his car, pulling his seat forward. He stretched his legs as he took in the sight of the ridiculously extravagant estate—a tiered water fountain served as the centerpiece, bathed in two rays of light from beneath, with the backdrop of a grand colonnade that stretched most of the length of the mansion.

 

Robb, who'd been sitting just behind him, climbed out from the backseat nearly shouting, "Jon, check it out. _The girls!_ "

 

Squinting, Jon gazed across the dark expanse of the yard, seeing tiny shaded figures weaving between their respective cars as they headed inside from the western garage.

 

"Holy shit! They look _hot!_ " he wailed with excitement, a smile dominating his features.

 

"They look like little more than _ants_ from here," Jon scoffed.

 

"Yeah. _Hot_ ants!" Pyp chimed after slamming the passenger door closed.

 

"You two are _hopeless_ , you know that? I feel sorry for your dates, already."

 

Robb broke into a fit of laughter, "I feel sorry for yours, too!"

 

" _Excuse me?_ "

 

"Once time's up and the lights come on? She'll just _flip_ when she sees you. She'll never know what hit her, you _sexy boy_ ," Robb teased, wrapping his arm around his cousin and pulling him in to muss up his trademark mane.

 

Shoving Robb away, Jon hissed " _Shut up_ ," a slight flush settling into his cheeks. "And stop it, you're messing up my hair."

 

"You'll be in a _dark_ room, Jon. You and your hair, _I swear_ ," Robb sighed before turning to Pyp. "Maybe he'll finally meet a girl he likes better than his own hair, eh, Pyp?"

 

" _Impossible!_ " their friend laughed along.

 

" _That's enough_ ," Jon grumbled. "I should've _never_ introduced you two."

 

Once inside, Jon felt rather overwhelmed by the blatant show of wealth that comprised the _entire_ interior. Inside the kitchen, two crystal chandeliers hung from vaulted ceilings, every counter topped with expensive-looking marble. Who on Earth lived here, and how exactly did Robb know them? On the kitchen island, Jon spotted a tray of what looked like sleeping masks, counting twelve in all.

 

"Hello, and welcome, everyone," a woman said as she abruptly entered the room. "My name is Yara and I will be your host for the evening. If you'd all gather 'round, I can run through the rules quickly and explain what you're to expect, tonight."

 

Reluctantly, Jon stepped forward, inspecting the other men who'd come to play the 'game', recognizing none. As the host continued, Jon redirected his gaze back toward her, "First, we're going to confiscate your cell phones and anything that might give off light. Watches, lighters and matches, keychains..."

 

Jon gulped.

 

"Afterward, you will be walked to your rooms and then blindfolded prior entering. The room will be bugged so be mindful of what you say. It will be pitch-dark, so be careful not to hurt yourself as you make your way around. You are to keep yourself blindfolded until your date enters the room securely. The door will be shut behind her and once you hear three knocks, only then are you permitted to remove your blindfold."

 

"Once inside," she continued, "You will meet the woman who, of the twelve here tonight, is mathematically the most compatible match. There are a few topics off-limits to you, however. No names! Nor can you describe your physical appearance. You can talk about work or school but do not give the names of the establishments you attend or are employed by."

 

She paused once more to gauge the faces of the men, garnering understanding nods before she continued on again.

 

"You _are_ permitted to touch each other, so long as it remains consensual. There are no limits to how far you wish to take it. However, be _warned—_ after an hour's time has passed, another three knocks will signal the opening of the door, and the light will follow, revealing your date. If you don't like what you see, you are encouraged to stay and mingle with the other guests. Likewise, if you choose to continue the date, you will have free rein of the house. At the end of the night, you will be required to submit a survey regarding your experience."

 

The men gathered round, emptying their pockets of anything that might cause light, several men unlatching digital watches from their wrists, all of it accumulating in a small plastic bin. Relinquishing his phone felt so unnatural, almost as if Jon was leaving behind one of his limbs. Yara passed out the masks to each of her test subjects before marching them up a winding staircase to a long row of rooms. Jon curiously watched as they stopped in front of door after door. The men equipped their masks before wandering into their respective rooms.

 

Finally, it was Jon's turn. He shielded his eyes as Robb clapped him on the back, "Good luck, Snow," he said.

 

"And you, Stark," he smiled back blindly before entering the room.

 

Careful to feel his way around, he'd found a desk and an office chair. It took him a moment to locate the couch, which had been more or less across from the door. Once he sat down, realized it'd been more like a loveseat, and a bit more cramped than he would've liked. His nerves started going haywire as he sat in the quiet, completely blinded. It was both terribly offputting as well as exciting. He thought back to the questionnaire he filled out, all of those personal questions about his past, present and future, his goals, his personality type... To know now that the information he'd provided was used to pair him up with a suitable match? He actually began getting his hopes up.

 

Inevitably, he heard shuffling in the hallway outside, followed by laughter. Jon worked to brace himself as the door opened, his date giggling away as she blindly entered.

 

"Oh... _Oops!_ " she cried, already having knocked something over, the crashing and the bounce of some unknown object filled the room with sound. "Oh dear," she laughed. "I'm just not cut out for blindness!"

 

Remaining still, Jon simply listened in, appreciating her bubbly laugh, already intrigued and trying to get a sense of her personality.

 

"Awfully quiet, aren't we?" she asked, her voice settling into a more sultry, feminine rasp.

 

" _We?_ " he asked, sure to lace his tone with obvious sarcasm. "You've made nothing but racket since entering."

 

" _Ooh_ , that voice!" she cried.

 

Before Jon could ask what she'd meant, there was a noise in the hallway that sounded like the peel of packaging tape before a slight rattling of the door's hinges. _Did they just seal us in here?_ he wondered. Finally, three knocks sounded on the door, signaling it was okay to remove their masks. _Not that it mattered_. It had been just as dark without it.

 

"Where are you? Speak to me again," she commanded him.

 

"Just come forward, straight ahead from where you entered," he said. "And try not to break anything else."

 

After a few soft footsteps on the carpet, his date all but tumbled into him. Luckily, he was able to catch her by the waist before gently guiding her to the empty seat beside him. The girl was petite, and had long, silky hair that grazed his fingers. She filled the air with the sweet scent of vanilla and peaches.

 

"Thank you," she giggled again.

 

"Anytime," Jon said, with a rather flirtatious drawl—thankful that in the darkness, she couldn't see him cringing at himself.

 

"So what drives a young man such as yourself to submit to this strange experiment?"

 

"Getting straight to it, I see," he chuckled. "Frankly, I didn't even want to come. My cousin dragged me here, though. He knows the host, so it was easy enough for him to secure a spot for me. He's always trying to set me up. I admit, in this instance, I was actually rather curious."

 

"The host? You mean _Yara?_ Your cousin knows Yara? _Get out!_ " she gasped as small hands found their way to his bicep, giving him a little shove.

 

"Do _you_ know Yara?"

 

"Of course! She's one of my _greatest allies!_ " the girl said with an excited bounce, that edibly delicious scent wafting, inescapable and so eerily familiar. Something about it spun memories of Summerhall, how his mother would force him to travel south, all alone, and attend huge, awkward Targaryen family get-togethers. Though, _strangely_ , he found himself drawn to the scent, rather than repelled.

 

Before letting his mind wander any further, he plucked an odd word from her reply to focus on, " _Allies?_ "

 

"Sorry, inside joke between me and her."

 

" _Ah_ ," he said, considering. "So if you know Yara personally, did you get to browse the selection, pick someone out, yourself?"

 

"No, no. She runs a tight ship around here, not even her allies are allowed to bend the rules. Besides, I wanted to play the game, same as everyone else," she assured him. First her scent, now her voice. The more she spoke, the more her voice reminded him of someone he couldn't quite place.

 

"So that means we're actually compatible. According to _science_."

 

"I sure hope so. Perhaps it's the darkness emboldening me, but I already like what I see."

 

Jon couldn't help but laugh, pinching the bridge of his nose, "What you _see_ , huh?"

 

"Sorry," she groaned, "I like what I hear. And _smell!_ "

 

She leaned into him, her vanilic aroma expanding in the space between them, " _Mmm_. What is that?"

 

"It's-"

 

"No! Stop! Don't tell me. Let me guess." She took another exaggerated, audible whiff. "Mmm.. tobacco and lemon, and some spice, too. I can't identify it, but it is downright _delicious_ ," she sang, her voice as alluring as a siren's call.

 

"It's _'The One'_. Dolce  & Gabbana."

 

" _Get out!_ " she lightly shoved him again, this time letter her fingertips graze his bicep, eliciting a flutter in his chest. "That's what I'm wearing! Well, the _femme_ parfum."

 

"That's an _eerie_ coincidence," he whispered. _The One? Really?_ he thought to himself. _What are the chances?_ His mind began racing, the romantic he kept tucked safely away in the recesses of his mind already spinning fantasies of telling his children the tale of how he'd met their mother in the darkness, that their respective fragrances had been like deliberate foreshadowing. He cleared his throat, if not his mind, "I had been thinking the same—that you smelled delicious. _Edibly_ so."

 

"And what of _my_ voice? Do you like mine, too?"

 

"Undeniably," he breathed. "You sound a bit familiar to me, in a way."

 

"I had been thinking the same of _you_ , actually."

 

" _Get out!_ " Jon mocked her, this time giving her arm a little playful shove of his own as she took the light mocking in stride, a belly laugh shaking the small loveseat.

 

"You may sound familiar to me, but I can't say I know any men with a voice as gruff and sexy as yours."

 

" _Sexy?_ " He puckered his lips before exhaling, "I'm already afraid of how you're imagining me."

 

"Is this your way of telling me that you're _not_ sexy?" her leg knocked his, letting her knee linger. Perhaps it was just the absence of expressions and eye contact—but her touches had been almost intoxicating. Jon flushed, thankful she couldn't see him overreacting to every little brush or graze.

 

"Who thinks of themselves as _sexy_? I sure don't."

 

"I do. _I'm_ sexy," she laughed.

 

 _Robb did say the ant-sized girls looked hot_ , he thought. _Perhaps she was._

 

Clearing his throat, Jon tried to steer the conversation in a more casual direction before letting himself get carried away. No matter how much he'd been drawn to her, it didn't change the fact he didn't have much room for a girlfriend, and the last thing he wanted was to lead this girl on.

 

"What do you do? For work?" he asked.

 

"My unofficial job title is _mother of dragons_ ," she said breathlessly.

 

Jon laughed at her inflection, still obviously playing up the sexy quality of her voice. And it was working, a bit too well. He gulped before asking for clarification, "And what on Earth does that mean?"

 

"Well, while I was in high school I worked at the ticket counter at a zoo. By some stroke of luck, nearly half of the employees came down with the flu..."

 

"How is _that_ lucky?"

 

"I'm getting there!" she paused to playfully scoff at him. "So, being severely understaffed, I was given access to the komodo dragon exhibit, and over the week while the zookeeper was out, it was up to me to feed them and keep their exhibit clean."

 

" _Komodo dragons_? Aren't they venomous?"

 

"They are. But at the time they were just babies, they'd just crawled from their eggs, utterly harmless. And now, they trust only me."

 

"Don't you need a degree for that?"

 

" _Typically_. But I love animals, particularly reptiles. I loved my job so much that I'd go up on my days off and volunteer to help, and I've trained on-site with established zookeepers for several years now."

 

"Are you going to pursue a degree in the field?"

 

"I am pursuing a degree, but not for that. I'm working on a bachelor's in social work. I want to help people," she confessed.

 

"That's very noble of you. I don't know that I could walk away from the dragons, myself. I love animals, too."

 

"You do?" she nearly shrieked. "Do you have any pets?"

 

"Just my baby boy, Ghost. Big white husky."

 

"All white?"

 

"Mmhmm, he has albinism. So his eyes are red, rather than blue."

 

"I bet he's gorgeous."

 

"I'd show you a photo if I could, but they took my phone!" he whined, knocking knees with her. When he went to move his leg away, she had chased right after him, maintaining physical contact.

 

"Maybe after you can show me?"

 

"Deal."

  
"I'd love to meet him someday," she purred.

 

It was then that it truly hit him that this might just develop into something. Talking to this girl had been frightfully easy. No awkwardness, no pauses, and an innate familiarity. When she mentioned meeting Ghost, he even started imagining it in his mind's eye, though the girl's face was little more than a shadow, her features still indistinguishable.

 

Jon cleared his throat again, trying not to get too caught up, "What about you, do you have pets?"

 

"Just my dragons."

 

"What are their names?"

 

"Drogon, Viserion and Rhaegal," she replied.

 

"I'm sorry, what was that third name?" Jon asked for clarification. It was frighteningly close to his father's name. The father he hardly had a relationship with. After their whirlwind romance, Jon couldn't help but share in his mother's bitterness. Rhaegar had a wife at home, already, and two children to boot. To spite Rhaegar, his mother Lyanna went so far as to legally change his last name to _Snow_ , letting her son choose his own surname. Jon had hated Targaryen, always thinking it a mouthful. Now, he only ever saw his father at the yearly family reunions his mother forced him to attend.

 

" _Rhaegal_ ," the girl repeated, snapping him out of his momentary daze.

 

 _"Oh..._ Did _you_ get to name them?"

 

"I did!"

 

"Quite exotic."

 

" _Fitting_ ," she said. "You should come by and meet them."

 

After such an invitation, he felt her hand brush his knee, lightly at first, testing the waters before resting its full weight. Jon shuddered, as if he could feel her touch everywhere, all over his body, all at once. Unable to resist chasing physical contact with her, he placed his hand next to hers, making sure to brush her thumb with his pinky finger.

 

"What about you? What is it you do?"

 

"I'm a paid intern. I can't tell you where, as per the rules of the game. I study full time, as well, at a place I'm not allowed to name. I don't want Yara to throw me overboard for breaking the rules."

 

"Do you always follow rules so closely?"

 

"I've got a bit of a rebellious side," he admitted. "But I'd rather play by the rules while we're in the dark. Besides, it's only for an hour, and I'm having fun so far."

 

"I'm having fun, too," she agreed, boldly taking him by the hand, stroking his skin with her thumb. As they touched, she offered a suggestive hum—a small spark igniting his imagination, _particularly_ in the dark.

 

"Am I allowed to ask where you grew up? I forget."

 

"I think so. But it's useless to ask, you won't have heard of it, I assure you."

 

"Where? Tell me!"

 

"North of here."

 

"Your accent, it's a dead giveway," she said. "How far north?"

 

"A small town just outside the city of Winterfell."

 

She gasped, "Winter Town!"

 

"How on _Earth_ have you heard of it?"

 

"I have a cousin from Winter Town."

 

"A _cousin?_ " he asked. _What are the chances?_

 

"Shit, sorry. No, he's my _nephew_ , actually. He's about my age, easy to mix up."

 

 _Oh no_ , he internally cringed, _it can't be—_ his stomach plummeted into a free-fall descent. It hit like a ton of bricks all at once—the familiar voice, the scent that reminded him of Summerhall, the dragon named Rhaegal, for her _brother_. The woman whose fingers were weaved through his own was none-other than Daenerys Targaryen, his _aunt_.

 

The normal reaction would be to rip his hand away. To reveal himself to her, to explain the misunderstanding. _It's not too late_ , he told himself—while making _zero_ effort to come clean.

 

"What's he like?" he boldly asked, still trying to work up the nerve to tell her the truth.

 

"You want to know what my _nephew_ is like? Why?"

 

"I don't meet many people from my small town, sometimes I get homesick, being so far south. Please, just indulge me?"

 

"Strange request, but _alright_ ," she conceded. "I'm not close with him. His mother would more or less force him to come to our yearly family reunions. He stuck out like a sore thumb, too, and I think it made him uneasy. I'd try to talk to him each year, to include him, but he hardly spoke a word to me. He always seemed so sad. Sometimes I just wanted to scoop him up and hug him."

 

The small admission had been enough to send his head swirling, imagining being wrapped up in his aunt's arms, and enjoying the thought _far_ too much.

 

"Maybe he was just shy," he gulped, envisioning Daenerys, his blood relative—with her long, silver hair, always intricately braided, a cascade of waves falling over the length of her back. Visualizing her had done nothing to quell his desire, either. _Shouldn't it have?_

 

"I suppose he's shy, though I'd always assumed he was just disinterested. _Definitely_ dark and brooding, always in black. Handsome, too—Perhaps that's why he never spoke to me. Guys who are too good looking like that often have this air of superiority."

 

" _Too_ good looking?" his heart was thudding so hard now, he was certain she could hear it. He tried his damnedest to stop trembling. "You thought your _nephew_ was handsome?"

 

She playfully shoved him, "Not like _that_. But I can recognize a handsome man when I see one, even if he happens to be related to me, sure."

 

"Dark and brooding—Is that your type?"

 

"I'd say no. Or, at least I tend to go for jock types and bad boys. Well-muscled, the taller the better..."

 

" _Oh_ ..." he said, unable to disguise his disappointment. "So, even had you _not_ been related, your nephew wouldn't have been your type?"

 

She laughed, "You're so strangely fixated on this. I swear I'm not some weirdo who has a crush on my nephew," for a moment she paused, Jon listened intently, hearing the whir of a tense exhale. "But no, not really my _type_. I'd say he's a bit too... _little_ for me."

 

_Ouch._

 

"So you date exclusively tall men?" he asked.

 

"I suppose I do."

 

Jon tried to wrench his hand from her grasp, but still, none of his muscles obliged.

 

"Sorry, I didn't mean... _shit_. You're short, aren't you?"

 

"Um..."

 

"How tall?"

 

"I can't say. Against the rules to describe our looks."

 

"We're allowed to _touch_ , though. Stand up, let me feel you."

 

Jon's blood began pulsing, his veins painfully expanding as a result, sending sharp pricks all along his skin, head to toe. _Just tell her, just tell her, now_ , he pleaded with himself. The thought of his _aunt_ demanding he stand and let her _feel_ him had been almost torturously enticing.

 

Hands clasped for balance, they rose together. Letting go of his fingers, she let a hand travel the length of his arm, slowly over his bicep and then over his shoulder. Her fingertips trailed up his neck and through his scalp, the light touches sending his eyes straight to the back of his head. He'd never been so thankful to be shielded from her sight. _If she knew who you were, she'd run screaming_ , he reminded himself.

 

" _Great hair_ ," she crooned as she inspected him, playfully tugging at his curls. Moving her body closer, she compared their respective heights.

 

"You're trembling," she noted after another moment, full of exploration, had passed. "Are you nervous?"

 

" _Yes_."

 

"Don't be," she said, dropping her arms. Once finding his hands, she guided his fingers to her head so he could gauge her height. _I already know exactly how tall you are_ , the wicked thought crept into his mind. She even wore her signature crown of braids, something that always made her look like royalty, like a princess, or even a queen. His mind teetered—on the one hand, he wanted nothing more than to kiss her, and on the other hand, he knew it hadn't been his choice to make, alone.

 

 _I will tell her,_ he finally decided. _But I need to kiss her just once..._

 

Jon jumped when he felt her hand freely roaming over his stomach, likely inspecting whether or not he'd been _well-muscled_ , the way she had preferred. At least his _body_ shouldn't be a disappointment, if not his height. _Stop thinking it_ , he reminded himself. _Once she sees you, she'll be horrified_.

 

"I've never liked anyone whose name I didn't know, whose face I've never seen," she said, her fingertips suddenly sweeping along his cheek and nose, as she blindly found her way to his lips. "It's kind of exciting."

 

Jon said nothing in response. _What could I say?_ he wondered, knowing they were both in the same moment, sharing two entirely separate thrills. For Daenerys, it was the rush of an anonymous encounter in the dark, for Jon, it was the irresistible taste of taboo, a forbidden desire he never knew he wanted until now.

 

"Nice, full lips..." she said, before stroking his cheek, scratching at the scruff on his face.

 

Jon's hands slid down from her head, his fingers nestling in the crook beneath her ear, his thumbs brushing over her cheek. In his head he could even see her plump lips, painted pink as he'd seen her do, a sharp contrast to her porcelain skin. _Just one kiss..._

 

Throwing caution to the wind, Jon pressed his lips to hers, trembling like a frightened child. There hadn't been even a lick of hesitation on her part. She eased right into his kiss, even raising herself up on tiptoes to better reach. Soon, her body followed, pressing right into his.

 

Gasping, Jon broke the kiss and jumped back, afraid she felt him hardening between their bodies.

 

"What's wrong?"

 

"Nothing's wrong," he said. _Everything about this is wrong_ , his mind corrected him. "You didn't feel it? Just now?"

 

"Feel what?"

 

" _Nothing_. Forget I mentioned it."

 

"Oh," she said, finally understanding. "Let me try again."

 

Their bodies pieced together as she dragged him back into her kiss, taking extra care to grind against his pelvis. Groaning, Jon broke the kiss again. "We shouldn't do this."

 

"Why not? You're _clearly_ enjoying yourself."

 

"The lights are going to come on, soon. What if I'm a... _weirdo?_ " he asked, thinking back to what she implied _she_ would be, had she harbored a crush on her _nephew_. "You could be revolted by me."

 

She sighed, "I guess there's a chance of it. But everything about you draws me in. Your voice, your scent, that body of yours. I feel so comfortable with you, like I've known you for years."

 

" _Don't_ say that," he pleaded, feeling his guilt tugging him away from the sublime moment.

 

"You don't feel it, too?"

 

"Of course I feel it. I can't feel _anything_ else."

 

"Then why are you hesitating so much?"

 

As he fought with the urge to come clean, he felt her posture slump in his arms.

 

"Oh..." she said. "I see. You're afraid you'll be repulsed by _me_. You want to wait until the lights are back on before we go any further."

 

The moment she tried to peel her body away from him, he locked his arms around her, pulling her in tighter.

 

" _Hey_ ," he barked, as he held her close. "Listen to me. There is not one inch of you that repulses me or _ever_ will."

 

"You can't be sure of that."

 

" _I can_ ," he insisted.

 

"Then show me," her whisper rattled as she yanked him back onto the loveseat. He toppled over her as the fell. _Holy shit_ , he thought, _this is actually happening_.

 

Pulling him into her kiss with a nip to his bottom lip, she went fishing for his right hand, guiding it to her bare thigh—she must've had on a dress, or perhaps a skirt, he guessed. Before he knew it, she was guiding his hands straight to the apex of her parted thighs. From what he could determine, she had on a pair of soft cotton boy-cut knickers. As he ran his fingertips over her lower abdomen, even through the fabric he noticed a glaring absence of hair, save for a small patch just above a wet stretch of fabric. Perhaps since acclimated to the darkness, his senses had been especially heightened. He could _smell_ her—the delicious, musky scent dominating even the pair of matching fragrances that hung in the air around them, invading his lungs and even his bloodstream, feeling an almost wolf-life transformation taking him over from the inside out. Still reluctant, he tirelessly fought back each shameful urge, his mind pleading him to pry his hands from her.

 

Sensing his reluctance, her fingers found his again, intently guiding them to the waistband of her undergarment. Her skin was _so_ smooth it made him quiver, even the few hairs she still had crowning her cleft had been wispy and soft, rather than coarse. The heat increased the further south he traveled, and just as soon as his fingertips brushed her sweltry wetness, she bucked her hips, his finger slipping right between her lips, instantly saturated.

 

His breath hitched as she rocked and rolled her hips below him, grinding her flesh right into his touch. Just above where her lips met, he swirled his fingers in a circular motion, her wetness wrapping around his fingers like noodles on a fork, thick and almost ropy as she soaked him through—he'd never felt anything like it. She might've been the one getting stroked, but the volley of sensations had been enough to trigger the retreat of his irises, rolling straight to the back of his head. Every inch of his body cried out, pleading him to bury himself in the near-volcanic heat between her legs.

 

" _In...inside me_ ," she stuttered, her soft hand cupping his and leading him a bit further down to her opening. Effortlessly, he slid inside with her aid, her walls already massaging back as they clenched around the width of his two fingers. He fought against the constriction, curling his fingers as he probed her, grinding his palm against her clit. It wasn't long before sweet tremors took hold of her body, shaking the entire loveseat as she stuttered and grunted with release.

 

" _Dany_..."

 

The dreaded name slipped from his mouth without warning. His mind, a minefield of horrific emotions he'd triggered one after the other—guilt, shame, _fear_...

 

Still trembling from her orgasm, she breathlessly asked, " _W-what_ did you just call me?"

 

Three booming knocks struck the door just then, leaving no time for an explanation. Jon had just enough to withdraw his hand from her knickers before the door burst open.

 

"Time's up!" Yara yelled, flicking the light on.

 

Dany had been looking toward the door, rather than at him, horrified that they'd been caught. Jon didn't dare look away from her. He _had_ to know her reaction.

 

Finally she turned, face to face with her _nephew_. For a split second she looked almost _relieved_ to see his face—there had been a glint of satisfaction, perhaps even _lust_ ... But it had gone as soon as it'd come, replaced by _clear_ offense. Anger furrowed her brow, even tears began to sprout at the ridge of her lashes. _Fuck_.

 

Laughter poured into the room from the hallway, urging Jon to peel his eyes from Daenerys. _Theon Greyjoy_ , of all people, had been the responsible party. He stood just beyond the doorway, doubled over in amusement. The host Yara stood to his side, confused, and next to her stood Robb, whose mouth had been left hanging open.

 

" _Daenerys?_ " he asked. They'd met once or twice, likely adhered to his memory for her beauty, alone. Robb had even asked to be set up with his aunt—and now _Jon_ was the one caught with his paws all over her.

 

" _You knew_..." Daenerys whispered, looking utterly shattered by the revelation, she wriggled herself out from under his weight, running straight for the door, even going so far as to push Yara out of the way.

 

"Daenerys, _wait!_ " Jon shouted his plea, scrambling to his feet after her.

 

Robb tried to catch his cousin by the arm as he ran, but Jon had been able to shrug him off.

 

" _Dany!_ " he shouted into the hallway, but she had somehow made it to the other end, rounding the corner to the spiral staircase.

 

Jon slowed to a halt, deciding against chasing her further. The fact that she sprinted from the room without so much as looking back had been a clear enough signal not to follow.

 

"You sick _fuck!_ " Theon cried with laughter as he approached.

 

"It _isn't_ funny," Jon nearly whined, internally reeling at how far he had let things go.

 

"Oh, it is. _Just_ as hilarious as I knew it would be."

 

"What does that mean?"

 

"Yara's my sister, man. I helped her set up."

 

" _You_ paired me with Daenerys?"

 

Theon held a wide, shit-eating grin as he nodded. Jon felt a stinging pain, realizing he and Daenerys hadn't even been _compatible_ matches, after all. It'd all been a sick joke from the start. And the room had been _bugged_. Theon likely listening in the entire time, perhaps even realizing that Jon had discovered her identity prior to making a move on her. His face flushed with both anger and embarrassment.

 

" _Jon_ ," Robb started in, "What the hell happened in there?"

 

"I don't know," he said, burying his face in his hands. "I don't know how it happened."

 

"You know damned well how it happened!" Theon shouted gleefully. "Shoulda heard him in there, he was even asking her about her _nephew_. Sick bastard knew it all along and went for it anyway."

 

"Holy shit, Jon, is that _true?_ "

 

"Don't give me that look," he growled at his cousin. "It's your fault for dragging me here in the first place."

 

"I'm sorry, _my_ fault? Did I somehow _make_ you seduce your aunt in there?"

 

"Maybe you should've set him up with one of your little sisters."

 

"Watch your _mouth_ , Greyjoy," Robb hissed. If looks could kill, the sniveling boy might've keeled over.

 

"Easy, _easy_ ," he snickered, throwing his hands up as if to yield.

 

"If you'd told me the _friend_ helping organize this was Theon, I would _not_ have come," Jon said. The three boys had grown up together, and Theon had always been a thorn in Jon's side. Usually, his pranks had been annoying, but mostly harmless. _This_ , however, had been downright devastating.

 

"Go on, Greyjoy, you've done enough," Robb said, giving his friend a shove. Strangely, Theon complied, starting down the hallway, his laughter still echoing.

 

Once he was out of earshot, Robb confronted his cousin, "Seriously, Jon. What the actual _fuck?_ You knew it was her? _How?_ "

 

"It's not as bad as it sounds. She came in and I was _so_ taken with her. You know I can't talk to girls. I'm shit at it. But with her it was so easy—we had so much in common."

 

"Yeah. I wonder _why_ ," he said sarcastically.

 

Choosing to ignore the jab, Jon continued, "You don't understand, you weren't there. It was real. Whatever it was between us, it was real and she felt it too."

 

"Well, sure _looked_ like she felt something when those lights came on..."

 

" _Shut up_ ," Jon sneered. "I'm serious."

 

"Then what are you doing talking to me about it?"

 

"What are you suggesting? She ran away from me, she was horrified, and worst yet, she knew that _I knew_ before the lights came on."

 

"So? You said it was real, and she felt it, too. It's worth at least trying to explain yourself. Assuming you _can_ ," Robb said, wide-eyed and still flabbergasted by the surreal turn of events.

 

Just then Yara walked up, looking apologetic, "Daenerys just submitted her exit survey and they'll be opening the gates for her, soon. If you'd like to go to her, I suggest you head down, now. So long as you come _back_ , because I'll need your survey, too."

 

Without another word, Jon all but flew to the spiral staircase, taking three steps down with each stride. Quickly, he retrieved his phone from the kitchen before throwing open the door leading out through the garage.

 

" _Shit_ ," he said, unable to see her anywhere once outside. He strode swiftly to his car, which had been hidden behind a gigantic SUV.

 

The moment his car came into view, so had _she_. Sat atop his hood with crossed legs, Daenerys was frantically scrolling through her phone.

 

"Daenerys?" he asked, carefully approaching her. "Do you know this is my car?"

 

Finally, she looked up at him, almost annoyed by his question, but not quite furious, as he'd expected. "You've had the same Firebird since you were sixteen, Jon. _Yes_ , I knew it was yours. I know some things, too," she snapped, clearly hurt, yet strangely approachable. _Not that he deserved it_.

 

"I'm sorry, Dany. I don't know what to say."

 

"Did _you_ set it up, somehow? After all, Robb knows Yara, too."

 

"Robb more-so knows her brother, Theon. He's the one who set it up. Not me, I _swear_ it."

 

"But you _knew_ it was me, and you still chose to take advantage of me?"

 

"I _didn't_ know it was you."

 

"You said my _name_ , Jon."

 

"I found out it was you as we talked."

 

"And you kept it from me?"

 

"I did."

 

"Why?"

 

Jon sighed, "Every time you touched me I could feel it everywhere in my body. I'd never felt anything like it before. I thought if only I could kiss you..."

 

Feeling a vibration in his pocket, Jon pulled out his nearly-dead cellphone, seeing the name of his dog walker pop up on the ID.

 

"Shit. I have to take this," he quickly explained, eliciting another scoff from Dany, who returned to her phone.

 

"Hello?"

 

_"Hello, Jon? I'm sorry to bother you. It's about Ghost."_

 

Bracing himself, "Ghost? What happened? Is everything okay?"

 

No response.

 

"Hello? _Hello?_ "

 

Pulling the phone away from his ear, Jon inspected it, finding nothing but a black screen. _Dead_.

 

"Fuck, _fuck_ !" he shouted, his mind already running the gamut of worst-case scenarios. _My baby boy_ , he thought, feeling his stomach turning sour with worry. "Dany I hate to ask this of you..."

 

Before he could finish, she thrust her phone toward him, with the number pad already displayed and ready to go.

 

"Thank you," he meekly replied, as he punched in his walker's number, one of the few he cared to commit to memory, his heart beating erratically with worry as the call connected. Ghost was his whole life.

 

_"Hello?"_

 

"Hi, sorry, it's Jon. My phone died."

 

_"Oh, hello, Jon."_

 

"Is everything alright? Is Ghost okay?" he huffed.

 

_"He's quite alright, perhaps a bit too happy after getting into a cupboard and eating a whole bag of dog biscuits."_

 

Jon let a final shudder rattle him as he heaved a sigh, feeling almost _thankful_ for Ghost's misbehavior, considering the alternatives.

 

_"I just wanted to see if I should still feed him before I leave?"_

 

"No, no. I think he's had enough. I'll feed him when I'm home, don't worry about it."

 

_"Alright, thanks for getting back to me. Have a good night."_

 

"You, too. And _thank you_ ," he said, ending the call. His fingertips still quivered a bit as the rush of paranoia slowly dissolved.

 

Curiously, the phone had remained unlocked, and Jon managed to glimpse just what Daenerys had been so fervently engaged with prior to handing her phone over—apparently reading a factsheet about _consanguinity_ and its consequences. _What the hell?_

 

He couldn't help but smirk as he extended his hand, their fingers grazing as he returned her phone, the familiar spark igniting his nerves all over again, and leaving him dizzy.

 

"In the interest of not keeping anything from you again, I just saw what you'd been searching on your phone. I didn't mean to see it, but there it was, and I looked."

 

Dany's face flushed.

 

"Why would you search that?" he coyly asked, shielding his eyes with his lashes as he avoided her gaze.

 

"I was just trying to sort out my feelings."

 

"By Googling the likelihood that our mixed genetics should affect our future _children_?"

 

Dany only glared at him.

 

"I know I'm _supposed_ to be grossed out by what happened between us, but I'm not. When I realized it was you in there, it did nothing to dampen what I felt. Quite the opposite," he explained.

 

The longest, most exaggerated sigh trickled from Daenerys before she began, "Do you want to know something _really_ twisted, Jon?"

 

"Always," he said, offering a smile.

 

"After you brought up my _nephew_ , all I could picture was his face."

 

"You've got to be _shitting_ me," Jon said, his jaw suddenly hanging slack.

 

"Part of me wishes I was," she admitted, diverting her gaze.

 

"Only _part_?"

 

"The other part wants to finish what we started in there."

 

 _Holy shit_ , Jon thought, trying to discreetly adjust himself, already feeling too excited too fast.

 

"What can I do to make it up to you?"

 

She sighed, her shoulders slackening, "I'm not upset with you."

 

"You should be. Keeping the truth hidden from you was so fucked up, and I shouldn't have even considered it."

 

"No, you _shouldn't_ have," she agreed. "But we were both having the _same_ experience in that room together. Had you not been... _you_ , I would've been just as bad, using some poor boy, wishing it had been my _nephew_ all along."

 

The sentiment had been enough to send a surge of blood straight to his groin. He shifted uncomfortably.

 

"Didn't you notice I started getting more handsy with you after you egged me on about him? Your hair felt like his, you were roughly his height," she laughed. "I couldn't believe it. Then the lights came on, and it _was_ your face. It had been you—the whole time. _Hell_ of a thing to process."

 

Unsure what to say, Jon only nodded, likewise stunned by the strange turn of events.

 

"Do you want to get out of here? Go to your place?"

 

"I'm blocked in."

 

Uncrossing her legs, Daenerys twisted her body to see a couple of cars parked just behind his Firebird. " _Right_ ," she said, clearly disappointed.

 

"I can't leave for the night," he groaned. "At least not yet. I have to fill out the damned survey."

 

"Will I get high marks?"

 

"The _highest_ ," he assured her with a grin.

 

She leapt from the hood of his car, her boots hitting the pavement with a thud, looking as if she might devour him in a single bite as she crossed the short distance—the sight almost _unsettling_ in its perfection.

 

"Is there any room for extra credit?" she asked, boldly reaching into his pocket and fishing around for his car keys.

 

"Daenerys..."

 

After unlocking his car, she crawled behind the driver's seat, straight into the cramped backseat, giving him a great view of her backside as her skirts shifted, revealing a small peek of her purple knickers.

 

"Get in," she barked her order, snapping him out of his daze.

 

Unable to resist, he complied, likewise crawling into his backseat before reaching to slam the door shut. The scent of her perfume cutting through the leathery odor of his car's interior.

 

Dany's hand had already slithered its way into the crease of his thigh, tugging him back into the seat beside her. As Jon settled in, he peered down, watching as she grazed the bulge in his pants. _Unreal_ , he thought, directing his gaze to hers—the inclusion of eye contact enough to rattle him straight to the core, the pressure already making him quake.

 

Leaning in, she sucked his bottom lip, pulling him into her mouth as she unzipped his pants. Jon tried to kiss back, providing nothing but poor, distracted efforts as her hand slipped into the opening of his boxers. She dragged her palm softly against his full length, letting her fingers curve over the swell of soft skin at its base before making the return trip over his shaft. As she freed him from the restrictive garment, he shivered from the brief rush of cool air. Loosely, she enclosed her fist around him, her fingers softly wiggling. Jon whimpered pitifully, already feeling as though he might bust at any moment.

 

Suddenly she squeezed him hard, dragging his skin upward as her thumb swiped over his head—collecting the moisture that pooled there. Jon shielded himself from any further kisses, turning his head away, unable to devote enough his attention to anything other than trying to last. Just when the friction became unbearable, she returned to using light touches. He sighed with relief.

 

" _My naughty nephew_ ," she whispered into his ear, the hot words causing his entire groin to tighten, his cock jerking, striking her with enough force to uncurl her loosely-curved fingers.

 

"Oh, you're _bad_ ," she breathed, returning to light strokes of his erection. The tension that had been pooling inside of him had nowhere else to go but upwards. Grunting as her fingers entwined around him, twisting up and down, the familiar flood of heat spurted out from the tip. He looked down just in time to see the rest of it spilling from him, coating her fingers as she burrowed a thumb into the underside of his cock, dragging it up his shaft and milking him dry.

 

Slumping into his seat, Jon heaved lungfuls of air as he worked to recover—a nearly impossible feat as Daenerys brought her fingers to her lips for a small taste before wiping them clean on her skirt.

 

Not even a full minute later, three small knocks struck the driver's window not far from Jon's head. He gasped, scrambling to stuff himself back into his pants. Daenerys giggled, pointing toward the window. When he looked, he saw it'd been completely fogged over—whoever had been out there knocking, _luckily_ hadn't seen anything. After zipping his pants, Jon leaned forward, popping the door open as he climbed out.

 

"I got worried. You never came back, and your phone kept going straight to voicemail," Robb said, stealing a peek of Jon's aunt stashed away in his back seat.

 

"My phone died."

 

"Oh, I am _definitely_ calling shotgun before Pyp," he whispered. "I'm _not_ sitting back there tonight."

 

Jon couldn't help a small snort of laughter at the comment. "You can drive if you like," he said.

 

"Your _Firebird_ ?" Robb asked in sheer disbelief. "You hardly let anyone sit in it, let alone _drive_ it."

 

"I know."

 

"Who are you and _what_ have you done with my cousin?"

 

Jon shrugged—he didn't know either.

 

"Alright, well. I just wanted to let you know that Yara _had_ matched you up with Daenerys, after all. The most compatible match of any pair, in fact."

 

"But Theon said-"

 

"I know what he _said_ ," Robb whispered. "But in truth, all Theon did was simply refrain from informing his sister of your... _relation_."

 

"... _Oh_ ," Jon said, thinking back to the undeniable connection he'd felt with her almost immediately.

 

"Alright. I'll leave you two alone, I just thought you should know it wasn't all some sham."

 

"Thank you, Robb," Jon said, though he already knew in his heart it hadn't been.

 

As his cousin walked away from them, Daenerys climbed out from the backseat, wrapping her arms tightly around her new, yet familiar lover.

 

"Did you hear that?" Jon asked her.

 

"I did."

 

"What do you think?"

 

"What I think is... that Robb assumes we've already tainted the backseat, so we might as well."

 

He couldn't help but laugh, "You're much more aggressive than I ever would've guessed."

 

"You bring it out in me," she said, "Besides. He's probably not ready to go home, yet, anyway."

 

Loosening her embrace, she let one of her hands slip down, slowly grazing his abdomen before fondling front of his jeans, where, although he was still rather tender, his body responded to her touch all the same.

 

"And he promised to leave us alone," she continued, lifting herself up on the balls of her feet. Dany began nipping at his ear, still stroking him over his pants. As she took his lobe between her lips, his eyes crossed of their own volition, leaving him quite incapable of forming coherent thoughts, let alone words.

 

"That didn't take long," she happily sighed now that he'd sufficiently stirred again under her touch. "What do you say?"

 

"Um," he groaned, making an honest effort to wrench his eyes open. "Before we get carried away... I want you to know I'm serious about you."

 

"I'm serious about you, too."

 

"I get pretty tied up with full-time work and school," he admitted. "I don't have a lot of free time."

 

"I'm in the same boat," she said, stepping away from him. "We'll make it work, Jon. And we can start by making the most of our time together, now."

 

Daenerys backed away further, glancing around their vicinity as if searching for someone or something. After a moment, she moved closer to the SUV in front of Jon's Firebird, shielding herself from sight as her hands disappeared under her skirt. She dragged her purple boy shorts down past her knees, and quickly over each boot.

 

"Let's get inside. While the windows are still fogged up," she suggested, slipping into his backseat a second time.

 

" _Dany_ ," he warned, his arm hanging limply over his door as he peered at her.

 

"C'mon," she urged him.

 

"We _can't_. I don't have, _um_ ," he gulped. "I don't have any condoms on me..."

 

"I'll jump off of you," she nearly whined, dragging her skirt up. "Just say when."

 

Parting her knees, she gave Jon an all-too-brief glimpse between her legs before crossing them, and patting the seat beside her.

 

Exhaling away the rest of his hesitation, he climbed back in, slamming the door behind himself again. Immediately, she began to climb on top of him, hungrily sucking at his bottom lip. He slipped his hands underneath her skirt, delighting in the smoothness of her round and completely bare hips. She moved on from his lips in favor of his neck, taking generous bites out of his skin and surely leaving behind a trail of bite marks.

 

Suddenly, her hands were back at his jeans, splitting the front of them open as quickly as she could manage, already fishing him out of his boxers a second time. Between the attention at both his neck and his groin, Jon already felt pummelled by the barrage of pleasurable sensations.

 

The near-instant she'd sprung him free, she slipped him inside of her, the couple sharing a wince at the tight fight. Lowering herself onto him completely, she sat, mostly still, with Jon tucked deep inside of her. As she adjusted to the fullness, her mouth sought his kiss a second time. Jon couldn't help rocking his hips just a bit, seeking some measure of relief from the hot clamp of her cunt around him, as well as the heavy demands of her tongue.

 

Once she began riding him, he couldn't resist rending his nails right into her hips, making sure to press her deeper into him on each pass. Already overwhelmed and hardly able to keep up, he tore his mouth from hers, seeking refuge at her collarbone. Hands still at her waist, he dragged the strap from her shoulder with his teeth, before making the return trip, leaving his own teeth-marks all along the creamy canvas of her skin.

 

" _Ahh_ ," she cried softly before shrugging him off of her shoulder. " _No more_ ," she scolded him, her rhythm persistent. "I want to look in your eyes."

 

As she pressed her forehead to his, a wide smile stretched across his face. Retracting his claws, he peeled his right hand from her hip, wriggling it into what little space there had been between their bodies. He grabbed hold of her between his thumb and index finger, pinching and stroking the hood of her clit as best he could in the cramped conditions, sure to maintain eye contact with her all the while. "Yes, _Aunt Dany_ ," he grinned.

 

The moment the words left his lips, her violet eyes had doubled in size. Jon winced again, the clamp around him tightening further, the flutter of her climax causing her to collapse into his chest. She writhed in his lap, nearly sobbing as he kept working her with his hand as best he could manage. The spectacle alone had been enough to evoke a different sort of tightness—all of his muscles clenched, signaling his own release.

 

"Off, _off!_ " he shouted, tightly grasping her hips again, all but tossing her into the leather seat.

 

With a grunt, he came quickly, managing to catch most of the mess in his palm as Dany's leg dangled over his lap. Looking completely disheveled, she erupted with laughter.

 

"What are _you_ laughing at?" he blushed, looking around for a solution to the problem at hand.

 

"I wish we'd figured this out sooner," she breathed. "I might've actually looked forward to those family reunions."

 

" _Next time_ ," he promised, his eyes still flitting about in search of something to clean up with.

 

Dany swiped her knickers from the floorboard before tossing them to her nephew, "Use these. I won't be putting them back on, tonight, anyway."

 

"You _won't?_ " he asked, shaking his head and wiping his fingers dry.

 

Smiling, she simply said, " _Nope!_ "

 

"And why not?"

 

"They were a _mess_. Even worse _now_ ," she laughed.

 

Unsure what else to do with them, he stuffed her knickers into his pocket so as not to leave behind any evidence.

 

"I imagine after we get back home to feed Ghost, they'd just end up on your floor anyway."

 

Despite everything they'd just done together, Jon felt his cheeks flush hot, all the same. "You're... coming back home with me, then?"

 

"Of course I am. I don't want tonight to end."

 

"Me either," he said with a grin. "We should really air this place out, so the windows go back to normal before the others get back."

 

Without another word, Dany wriggled between the seats and began rolling down the driver's seat window. With each crank her hips rolled, her skirt rising and falling an inch or so, giving him small peeks of her still-swollen flesh. It took all of his willpower not to lift her skirt the rest of the way for a proper look, already dreaming of taking her in such a fashion, bent right over his armrest...

 

Clearing his throat, Jon finally tore his eyes away long enough to zip up his pants. Once Dany had settled back into her seat, he snuggled right up to her. Sinking into her embrace, his thoughts wandered until the dream-like vignette began to fade—reality, once again, reared its ugly head. For now, he had no idea how they'd fare against the harsh judgments that were sure to follow. Jon, however, hadn't been the least bit bothered by the taboo. Already, he had hoped to drag her home with him and straight into his bed. Not just this night, but for all of them. Whatever price he had to pay to keep her would be well worth the expense.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wait, I actually like Rhaegar, why do I keep insinuating he's some asshole? Hahaha, oops!
> 
> I must stress that I know full well Modern AU lies somewhere outside of my wheelhouse, and it's well out of my comfort zone for good reason, lol, so just keep in mind this is strictly *for fun* before you eviscerate me in the comments! :P I'm just here tryin'a get aunts in Jon's pants!


	2. See Anything You Like?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to keep everyone waiting so long on an addition to this. Got hit with writer's block and as you might've guessed - still struggling. As I said - modern AU is a bit tough for me, not sure what I'm doing (still), and it took me a quite a while to decide were exactly to take this because when I posted it, I had zero plans of writing a follow-up. Hopefully it's not disappointing.
> 
> **Warning** To reiterate - this fic deals with the taboo of modern incest. If that rubs you the wrong way, steer clear! That being said, I do try my best to keep it tasteful and lighthearted, considering. Either way, it's only fiction.
> 
> And, true to my pen name here, there is smut below. If you're not a fan of that either, well. Proceed at your own risk, you've now been warned about all of the things!
> 
> Major shout-out and thanks to TheScarletGarden, from whom I borrowed the glorious invention of "Tyroshi takeout", a combination of words that brings me so much joy I couldn't help but shoehorn it in, somewhere. (By the way - her fic "In The Midnight Hour" is pure brilliance!)
> 
> Lastly, this chapter is dedicated to Linctavia, who is, hands down, this fic's biggest fan!

 

* * *

 

 

After making an honest effort to attend at least _one_ of his two classes this afternoon, Jon threw caution to the wind and began his short trip back home. Dany would join him within the next couple of hours for a night in. With any luck, he'd beat her home, with enough time to take Ghost on a short walk beforehand—and then she'd be all his.

 

He could think of little else but Daenerys for the duration of his drive. The once immaculate leather smell of his car's interior had been dampened by the blend of their fragrances—peaches and lemons, vanilla and tobacco—tainted with the sharp and musty tang of sweat. Jon rolled his windows up, inhaling the scent marked by nights he'd taken his Firebird across town to her place, giggling like teenagers out past curfew as they found a dark alley to park in, so as not to wake her roommate. His memories of their endeavors, alone, had been enough to raise his temperature by a few degrees.

 

It hadn't even been a full week into their relationship before he'd had cut a key for her. Since then, his apartment had become a small museum of their reckless abandon. An exhibit of strewn undergarments like landmarks on a map to every surface they'd christened—from bed to couch, from shower to kitchen counter. The bedside table, another exhibit—dozens of teeth-torn Trojan wrappers that never quite made it into the trash can.

 

Jon pulled into his parking space underground and practically ran to the elevator, pushing the button for the seventh floor. On the ride up his phone buzzed in his pocket. Preemptively, he smiled, already certain it was her. Upon unlocking his phone, he was greeted by a quick snap of Dany cuddled up to Ghost on a bench. _Wait, what?_

 

After inspecting the image for a moment longer, he was able to determine where they were—at a park a few blocks away. Jon aggressively hit the call cancel button a few times before selecting the lobby. Quickly, he swiped a response.

 

_Skipped class. On my way to you now._

 

Almost immediately, she replied.

 

 _Had a feeling. See you soon._ _♥_

 

Jon tied his hair back and out of his face before setting off. He practically ran the full way there, waiting only at busy intersections before crossing. At every stop, he stole peeks of the flawless photo of his girlfriend's face— _his aunt's face—_ unearthly violet eyes and pillowy pink lips he couldn't wait to devour.

 

As he rounded the final corner, he was surprised to see she had been stopped on the side of the road, her back turned to him—her lavish silver waves unmistakable as the wind tossed them every which way and rippled the hem of her black skirt, silver buttons all down the back. _Gods, she's gorgeous_.

 

" _Babe!_ " Jon shouted after her, sprinting in an effort to finally catch up with her and Ghost.

 

Daenerys turned, almost cringing as she placed a finger to her lips as if to shush him. Her eyes widened as she nodded in Ghost's direction. Jon shrugged his shoulders, throwing his hand up to signal his confusion. _I always call her that_ , he thought, shaking his head.

 

It was then he finally noticed a man had been crouched in front of Ghost. Dressed to the nines, he rose to his feet. It's no wonder Jon had missed him at first glance—his almost blindingly bright hair blended right in with Ghost's from a distance.

 

 _Viserys_.

 

A disapproving scowl wrinkled his face. "Did you just call my sister _babe?_ "

 

"Of _course_ not," Dany intervened, chuckling nervously.

 

" _Uh_ ," Jon hesitated, scanning his mind for an explanation. He'd forgotten _all_ about Viserys while living in his little bubble of seclusion with only Dany and Ghost. "I was talking to my dog, actually."

 

" _Your_ dog?"

 

"Come here, _babe_ ," he noncommittally called to Ghost with a whistle. An uncomfortable heat crept up his neck and into his cheeks.

 

Luckily, the loyal canine peeled himself from Viserys' unblemished leather shoes and trotted over happily to greet Jon. _Good boy_ , he thought to himself as he scratched behind Ghost's ears, making a mental note to give him an extra large bully stick later on.

 

Clearly, Daenerys was enjoying Jon's embarrassment a little too much—her lips tightly pursed together in an effort to stifle more nervous laughter.

 

Meanwhile, the lie hadn't impressed his skeptical uncle, who only extended his neck further in an attempt to literally look down on Jon. " _Queer tastes_ ," he said under his breath before turning back to his sister. "What are you even doing? It's a quarter to five, already."

 

She sighed, handing the leash off to her secret boyfriend. "I was just walking his dog."

 

"Actually, I don't care what you do," he interrupted. "So long as you're not late tonight."

 

"Tonight?" Dany asked, exchanging a subtle, worried glance with Jon.

 

" _Don't_ tell me you've forgotten."

 

"The fundraiser, _right_ ," she sighed. "I haven't forgotten."

 

Viserys turned toward Jon, doing everything in his power to look beyond him, rather dismissively, "Unfortunately, as I know our brother would love to see you, _nephew_ , I am obligated to extend an invitation."

 

"Wow, thank you for the _kind_ offer," Jon said sarcastically, "But I'm afraid I've got other plans."

 

"I'm sure if something should change, _say_ , your schedule opens up, the invite still stands. Right, Vis?"

 

"Sure, _whatever_ ," he sneered, pulling his phone from his pocket. " _Ah_. My Uber's almost here."

 

Viserys tilted his head to inspect his sister, uncomfortably running his eyes over her figure. "Dany, make sure you remove every last bit of that unsightly fur before tonight. Better yet, wear something else entirely. You _must_ make me look good."

 

A dark car slowed to a halt next to the curb as he continued, "You still slouch, sweet sister."

 

Dany groaned, unsuccessfully dodging his touch as he tucked her hair behind her ear.

 

"I need you to be perfect tonight. That _includes_ your posture. Can you do that for me?"

 

"Yes, _brother_. I'll see you there."

 

The tall, lanky man leaned to plant a kiss on his sister's forehead. Jon shuddered at the sight. Daenerys stepped aside as Viserys opened the car door. He offered a disingenuous smile and a wave before getting inside.

 

Jon groaned in disappointment as they watched his ride drive away. "I was sorta hoping that we'd stay in tonight. Grab Tyroshi takeout and catch up on Nightflyers?"

 

"I know," she sighed. "I'm sorry, Jon. I'd forgotten all about this damned auction. Viserys would _disinherit_ me if I skipped it."

 

"Would that be so bad?"

 

"He means well, he does."

 

"Funny," he scoffed. "I got the impression that what he _means_ is to be a condescending prick. He's even worse than I remember."

 

"He's... got his own way of showing he cares."

 

" _Uh huh_ ," Jon said doubtfully. "Cares about getting what he needs from you, going so far as to insult you along the way."

 

"I appreciate your concern, Jon, but I agreed to help with this event months ago."

 

"I know," he sighed. "It's just been a few nights since I've had you all to myself. I was looking forward to it."

 

"I was, too," she admitted, grabbing for his hand as they walked home. "But I'll make it up to you tonight."

 

Once they made it back to the lobby of Jon's place, he signaled the elevator. As soon as it chimed its arrival, Jon let Ghost off his leash before he and Dany boarded. They watched him gallop up the staircase as the doors closed. Just after Dany selected his floor, Jon pressed her into the wall, cradling her jaw in his palms as the car began its ascent.

 

" _I've missed you_ ," he whispered.

 

_Beep._

 

Jon felt Daenerys smile as their lips brushed together. She fisted the fabric of his fitted t-shirt, pulling him closer...

 

_Beep._

 

Nibbling at her bottom lip, Jon felt her shiver under his hands as they moved from her jaw and over her neck...

 

_Beep._

 

A soft groan escaped the lips he'd been dreaming of all day...

 

_Beep._

 

He dropped his hands further, roaming her body as their tongues slid together...

 

_Beep._

 

The final warning. Reluctantly, Jon tore himself from Daenerys, straightening out his clothes and pulling his shirt over his groin in an attempt to hide his erection in case they ran into anyone else in the hallway.

 

One last beep sounded, the doors split down the middle as a white muzzle nudged its way inside. Ghost gleefully spun in circles to show he'd won the race, obstructing the only exit.

 

"Who's a good boy?" Jon asked, scratching his hound's back as a cloud of white fur dispersed around them.

 

Dany joined in, scratching as Ghost's ears, "It's you! You're the good boy, _babe!_ "

 

" _Ugh_ ," Jon groaned, his voice drowning in her laughter. "Don't remind me."

 

Ghost turned and ran down the hall to Jon's door, shifting his weight to either front paw—the ritual dance he performed as he waited for it to unlock. Once inside, his husky ran straight for his water bowl, and Daenerys, straight to the bedroom.

 

" _Quickly_ ," she ordered Jon.

 

At her command, he began shedding his clothes, discarding his t-shirt to the floor along with hers. He unhooked her bra and let it fall from her shoulders before spinning her around and shoving her onto the bed. Dany licked her lips as she watched him disrobe on propped elbows.

 

Normally, Jon would've taken his time with her—paying extra attention to her mouth, neck, and breasts—but he knew he had no time to waste. He didn't even bother with her skirt aside from pushing it up over her waist.

 

Dany's phone interrupted them, buzzing away in her bunched up pocket. She went to retrieve it, but Jon had beat her to it.

 

"Give it here."

 

With a smirk, he held the side of the phone against the crotch of her panties as it rang a second time. Dany shrieked, tearing her phone from his grip as he chuckled.

 

"Yara!" she answered, "Oh, thank the _gods_." With her free hand, Dany tried to hold her panties up unsuccessfully as he tugged them down over her knees.

 

"Yes, it's tonight."

 

Jon parted her legs.

 

"Bring anyone you like," Dany nearly whimpered as he began lapping at her. "The more... the merrier."

 

He massaged the slick, silky skin with his tongue before latching onto her. Pulling her lips between his, he sucked away all of the juices—relishing the tangy flavor, ripe with a note of sweat that seemed to, impossibly, rile him further. Even with ears muffled between her thighs, Jon could hear Yara's mechanical, disembodied voice as he worked—swiping his tongue over the hood of her clit before finally dipping just underneath it for more direct contact.

 

" _Yep!_ " she cried, a bit too enthusiastically. Sharp nails dragged over his scalp, but he didn't budge an inch as he sucked her. Rather, he merely enjoyed her taste and listening to her struggle to carry on a conversation. "The Slate... at... Cobbler's Square. _Mmmhmm_... You'll be on the guest list, you shouldn't have... any problem getting inside."

 

With that, Jon kissed his way down to her entrance before shoving his tongue as far in as he could manage, thoroughly coating his taste buds.

 

"Sounds good, see... see you there!"

 

After ending her call, the phone fell to the floor, its fall cushioned by the pile of cast off clothing. Rather than admonish him, she chose instead to spread her legs further, grinding her hips right into his face. She held his head in place with her hands, blocking his airways until he had to come up, doused and panting for breath.

 

" _Jon..._ "

 

After pawing his way up over her body, he pushed the hair from her neck.

 

"Don't go," he pleaded softly against her earlobe.

 

"Come with me."

 

"Now _there's_ an offer I can't refuse," he whispered, brushing noses with her before slipping a hand on the underside of her right knee, pulling her leg up toward her chest. Jon locked her thigh in place with his as he shifted to a kneeling position.

 

"I meant the _fundraiser_."

 

"We'll see."

 

After retrieving a condom from the nightstand, he tore into the edge of the package with his teeth before adding it into the heap of discarded wrappers. After smoothing the latex over the tip of his cock, Dany helped stretch it over his length with soft, downward strokes.

 

Jon settled above her, their bodies so perfectly aligned he didn't even need to use his hand to guide himself inside. As he buried himself within her, an immediate sense of relief washed over him, like he'd finally returned home. Dany stroked his back, humming in satisfaction.

 

Since he knew he'd left her hanging, he lifted himself up, resting on one elbow as his hand slipped between their bodies. With broad, circular strokes he massaged her clit as he bucked his hips into her irresistible warmth. Each small collision at the back of her womb served only to tighten the grip she'd had on him from the inside.

 

He examined her eyes as she watched his movements—her attention flitting from the hand between her legs, to his chest and abdomen as he thrust into her again and again. Finally, she succumbed, the soft, wet skin between his fingers twitching as her muscles spasmed. Jon made the mistake of looking into her eyes—filled to the brim with want, almost beckoning him to plunge deeper, to drown with her. Just one look was all it took to finish unraveling him.

 

Jon's arms buckled as he collapsed onto her. Dany grabbed onto either side of his face, unwilling to break their gaze until she'd seen it through—tightening her walls as she rolled her hips against him, stubbornly milking him free of every last drop.

 

After they'd calmed down and caught their breath, Jon reluctantly peeled himself from Dany's body. He let her take the bathroom first to clean up, using just a towel, himself.

 

Upon returning, she began dressing in a hurry. Balancing on one foot as she pulled her panties over the other, she asked again, "Are you sure you won't come?"

 

He sighed, "I'd rather not leave Ghost for so long."

 

Dany merely nodded, doing her best to disguise her disappointment.

 

"Besides, I'm not so sure I'd like to see Rhaegar any sooner than necessary."

 

"We've never talked about Rhae, have we?"

 

"Luckily not," he groaned, wondering how they'd gone several weeks avoiding the subject, altogether. Dany was much closer to Rhaegar than she had been to Viserys—and he couldn't decide whether that was better or worse.

 

"You're safe for now, but you're going to tell me what's up between the two of you, later."

 

Jon followed Dany to the kitchen as she grabbed her purse, slinging it over her shoulder. She pressed a quick, chaste kiss to his lips.

 

"Just remember, it's not too late to change your mind," she reminded him, allowing herself to scan his naked body one last time before heading toward the door and locking him inside. Ghost's ears perked up upon hearing the lock, and he whined in complaint.

 

"I know, boy," he sighed. "I tried to stop her."

 

Feeling dejected, Jon grabbed his phone and unlocked it. He opened the ordering app for Tyrosh Garden, yet made no selections. He scrolled through the menu, suddenly realizing it was never the _food_ he wanted. It was Dany.

 

Instead, he dialed his dog walker, hoping they were available for a last minute walk in a few hours' time.

 

.  .  .

 

Cobbler's Square, one of the oldest parts of town, had a history stretching back hundreds of years. It went from a once-modest borough lined with cobblestone streets to a gentrified neighborhood that was an awkward patchwork of old and new. The Slate was a historical factory recently renovated to look as industrial as the name might imply. Jon had never been inside, since the events held there were rather exclusive—ranging from launch parties to art exhibits to exclusive corporate cocktail parties.

 

Needless to say, it wasn't his style. He preferred his neck of the woods a few miles away—his small apartment with outdated but reliable appliances, a rickety fire escape just outside his window, and dirty hole-in-the-wall delis and diners lining his block. As he pulled up to the gate of the adjacent parking garage, instant dread washed over him. He wondered how in seven hells he kept winding up at these extravagant events against his will.

 

After several minutes, the parking booth attendant _still_ couldn't find his name on the guest list. The cars were piling up behind his Firebird now, honking in irritation as they waited.

 

"That's three times I checked now, there's no Snow here."

 

"I'm the nephew of the guy who's runnin' the damned thing. I talked to him two hours ago."

 

"The _damned thing?_ "

 

"The auction... the _fundraiser_ , if you prefer. Viserys Targaryen, I'm his brother's son. Rhaegar's. I know Daenerys..." Jon stammered.

 

"You look _nothing_ like Mr. Targaryen," he said, examining Jon's ID once more, "And you don't share his name, either."

 

"I suppose I favor my _mother_ ," he said through gritted teeth.

 

"Alright, _Snow_ ," the man relented as someone behind them laid on their horn. "I'll allow you to proceed inside, but I'm calling security and giving them your description."

 

After stuffing his ID back into his wallet, Jon offered an irritated nod before driving up to the very top of the structure to park as far away from the other cars as he could manage. Just as he exited his car, his phone buzzed. A text from Robb. He unlocked his phone to a group photo of his cousin, Pyp, Yara Greyjoy and a dark-haired girl he didn't know, all of whom were impeccably dressed. Relief washed over him knowing they were downstairs at this very moment.

 

Jon's nerves began to subside as he rode the elevator down. He took a moment to straighten his stiff grey suit before heading inside.

 

"Jon," a familiar voice called—deep, yet soft and melodic. _Damn the luck._

 

He turned, further confirming his suspicion.

 

"Father."

 

"I recognized your car. I'm happy you came."

 

The smile that followed was genuine and seemed to soften the hard lines in his face. The lighting accentuated the purple in his eyes. Rhaegar looked eerily like his younger sister, so much so that the weight of Jon's double-life began weighing on him. Unsure how to respond, he averted his eyes and simply nodded.

 

"Are you bidding tonight?"

 

He shrugged. "I've no idea what's even up for auction."

 

" _Well_ ," Rhaegar began. "If something strikes your fancy, it's on me. Anything you'd like."

 

"Thanks, but _no_ thanks." Jon was used to turning down his father whenever he attempted to buy his affections.

 

"Your mother, then? If you see anything she'd like, add it to my tab."

 

Jon's knuckles cracked as he balled his fists at his sides. He honestly didn't know whether he should tell his father off, or whether to go on a bidding spree on his dime.

 

Rhaegar's smile faded as he watched his son silently seethe.

 

"Have you been well?"

 

"Yes, thanks," he said, picking up his feet in an attempt to dodge any further conversation.

 

"I heard the CEO of Night's Watch Security Services personally took you under his wing as his protégé," Rhaegar called after him.

 

"You heard correct."

 

"I'm proud of you, Jon."

 

"Nothing to be proud of," he countered, turning to face his father again. "I only got the job because of my Uncle Benjen."

 

"As an intern, though."

 

"And now I'm little more than a personal assistant."

 

"To a very powerful man with a successful company, and only in a matter of weeks. Word is he's never taken on a personal assistant prior to you."

 

Jon shrugged. _How did he know so much?_ he wondered. It didn't feel like some great accomplishment. He felt like little more than a servant, doing a range of menial tasks—like ordering donuts and snack trays for the office and picking up Mr. Mormont's dry cleaning, for Seven's sake. It wasn't some glamorous career.

 

"Enjoy yourself tonight, Jon." Rhaegar had finally taken the hint. He squeezed Jon's shoulder before departing, leaving his son alone.

 

Jon watched his father walk off before opening the glass double-doors before him. Inside, he'd found himself on a concrete loft overlooking a small stage and seating area. The old brick walls were painted over and manually distressed. Industrial lighting fixtures hung between black metal support beams all along the ceiling, which matched the tall black-framed windows that stretched the full length of the walls. Every third window had been illuminated by a colored light that cast the venue in dull reds and purples. Several tall bar tables were spaced out throughout the loft, each with its own attendant and centerpiece—a postcard with black and white line art indicating what was up for grabs.

 

Finally, his eyes fell on his aunt—wearing a small black number and a wide smile, framed with full, bright red lips. Daenerys was tending a table that had a hand-drawn image of a classic car. Her thick, silvery mane flirted with the hem of her neckline before it went plunging nearly to her navel, exposing the milky curve of either breast. Though he'd seen them in full view mere hours ago, he couldn't help but stare.

 

"Snap out of it," his cousin called, effectively shaking him from her spell. Robb then dropped his voice to a whisper, "Keep in mind you're drooling away over your _Auntie_ for all to see, such as, say, her _brothers_..."

 

"Fair point," Jon groaned, finally averting his eyes.

 

Robb was one of the few people who knew about their relationship—along with whoever else bore witness to it the fateful night it began. When he turned, he caught sight of his friend attempting to woo a very unlikely candidate.

 

"You've got to be kidding me," he said. "Pyp and _Yara Greyjoy?_ I would've sworn she was gay."

 

"I thought so, too," Robb admitted. "But from what Talisa says, sounds like she docks at _either_ port."

 

" _Talisa?_ "

 

"That'd be me," the dark-haired girl from the photo stepped forward with an outstretched hand for a shake.

 

"Forgive me, Talisa," he flushed with embarrassment as he took her hand, "It's a pleasure to meet you."

 

"And you, Jon."

 

"I'm sorry," he began, having a look at her. Talisa had a pretty face, long dark hair and dark eyes to match. Despite trying to hide it under a modest-cut dress, he could tell she had a shapely figure, to boot. Talisa was exactly the sort of girl sure to get Robb into trouble. "You look familiar. Are you the one Robb was matched with last month?"

 

A smile grew as she explained, "No, but we met that night. While he... _waited_ for you. And Daenerys."

 

Jon glared at his cousin, "You told her about _Daenerys?_ "

 

"What? I tell her everything. Just like you do, Dany."

 

He sighed. "Does it bother you my _charming_ cousin wasn't your most compatible match?"

 

"Oh, _no_ ," she admitted with a giggle, "We've almost _nothing_ in common, if I'm being honest."

 

"But that's why it works," Robb cut in. "My match—Roslin, I think it was? Dull as a doorknob. Even when the lights came on and I saw how beautiful she was, I felt nothing."

 

"Whereas I drive him mad," Talisa purred, lightly grazing his chest with her slender fingers.

 

"Indeed you do, love. In every sense of the word."

 

Jon watched awkwardly as they eye-fucked each other mere feet away from him. He couldn't help finding it odd how much the experiment had worked in his favor, yet not at all in Robb's. At least he'd found Talisa in the aftermath.

 

"If you don't behave, I _can't_ promise I won't attack you again."

 

"Attack away," she taunted.

 

In an effort to break them up, Jon cleared his throat.

 

"Jon?"

 

 _Daenerys_.

 

Though he spotted her mere moments ago, the fresh sight of her had been enough to bowl him over. He had to tap every last drop of his willpower to stop himself from sweeping her into his arms and covering every bit of bare skin with kisses.

 

" _Dany_ ," he breathed, doing a terrible job with discretion.

 

"See anything you like?"

 

"Understatement of the _year_ ," he answered, unable to keep his gaze from sweeping over her flawless figure.

 

Her cheeks flushed at his comment, "I meant the items up for bid..."

 

"I haven't had the chance to look, but I didn't come to bid."

 

Daenerys gestured for Jon to join her at the table she'd been tending. Like a loyal pup, he followed fast on her heels.

 

"A sixty-two Ford Cortina," he commented upon getting a closer look at the postcard. He flipped through a small photo book on the table, full of snapshots of the classic British car.

 

"People really bid on just some photos without even seeing it?"

 

"Oh, it's here. It's in the basement of the parking garage if you'd like to see it. Fully restored, not even a speck of rust."

 

Jon couldn't help but smile, "You don't have to sell to _me_ , Dany. I don't have twenty-thousand dollars lying around. Besides, I like my car just fine."

 

" _Well_ ," she raised an eyebrow. "That's an _awful_ good guess. Not quite enough to take it home, but close."

 

"I have another guess," he said after taking a quick visual stock of the other big-ticket items, each with their own attendee— _none_ of which could rival the allure of his secret lover.

 

" _Oh?_ "

 

"This is the most expensive item up for grabs tonight, isn't it?"

 

"Another good guess."

 

"Better not _slouch_ , then, else you might blow it for your poor, _sweet_ brother."

 

" _Stop that_ ," she smirked, all the while instinctively straightening her posture.

 

"Can't blame Viserys, you know. Now I'm here, I get it."

 

"How do you mean?"

 

" _You_ ," he said, eyes dragging from black heels to silver tresses, "Could sell a crannogman's own frog spear right back to him."

 

She let out a laugh before mock cringing, "I _hate_ that saying."

 

"Why's that?"

 

"You know I've got a soft spot for amphibians and reptiles, alike. Speaking of which, you still need to come down to my exhibit to meet my dragons."

 

"I will. Soon," he promised. "When's the bidding over, anyway?"

 

"About twenty minutes."

 

"Wanna get out of here after that?"

 

She bit her lip. "I told Rhae I'd say for his performance."

 

" _Performance?_ " he scoffed.

 

"He'll be playing a few pieces as the high bidders are determined."

 

" _Of course_ he will," he rolled his eyes.

 

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

 

"Any chance to break that damned harp out, he'll take it."

 

"And how would _you_ know? You see him, what, once a year?"

 

"I know well enough," he assured her.

 

Before she could argue, an older man in an ill-fitted suit approached the table. He carried an elaborate jeweled walking cane and dispersed a cloud of perfume more feminine than even Dany's.

 

"Illyrio," she greeted him with a smile. "I'll be right with you."

 

Next, she turned to Jon, "Why don't you have a look at the other items while I finish up?"

 

With his hands in his pockets, Jon set off, wandering through the loft. First, he approached a table with a postcard with what looked like a Rorschach-style inkblot, unable to help hovering closer. A woman was at the table scribbling away. Nonchalantly, he sneaked a peek of her offer price— _four thousand dollars_. Just as he took the small photo book to flip through the pages, the table's attendee greeted him.

 

"Custom artwork by famous graffiti artist Garth Gardener. Are you interested in bidding this evening?"

 

"Still making the rounds before I decide," he said, offering an awkward smile. _Four grand for graffiti?_ Surely, Jon could find someone from his own neighborhood to do comparable work for a few hundred, if even that. _It's for charity_ , he tried to remind himself.

 

He wandered past more big-ticket items—a sailboat, a jacuzzi, even a food tour of Cobbler's Square—until an item finally caught his eye. A postcard with an abstract drawing of a curvy woman. _What could that mean?_ he wondered as he approached the table.

 

A first-class, all-inclusive, five-day vacation package to _Lys the Lovely_ , a tropical island known for its ancient temples, crystal-clear aquamarine waters, and its unearthly beautiful inhabitants—where the blood of Old Valyria still seemed to flourish. As he flipped through the pages, he couldn't help but envision Daenerys sunbathing on the pristine and secluded beaches, snorkeling with the fish, and wandering the perfumed streets and markets.

 

Rather than bid, he merely tucked the idea away in the recesses of his mind before wandering downstairs early to find seats. He unlocked his phone to a photo message of Ghost with a bully stick between his paws. _Good boy_ , he smiled to himself. His walker included a thanks for the generous tip, easing his guilt about the last-minute reservation.

 

"The most beautiful boy around, isn't he?" Dany cooed from over his shoulder, setting her clutch on the table before pulling out the seat beside him.

 

Stashing his phone away in his pocket, Jon couldn't help leering at her as she nestled against the tufted leather seat. Dany's violet eyes traveled over his tailored suit, snagging at his groin as she bit her lip. He knew _exactly_ what that look had meant—and it made him shiver. When she finally matched his gaze, the heat between them became too much to bear. He shook himself from the trance. It was no wonder they kept themselves locked away in either his car or his bedroom—both finding it nearly impossible to behave in public, or _anywhere_ , for that matter.

 

Jon's brow furrowed as he turned away from her, searching for a way to douse the flames. Finally, he'd found it.

 

"I never asked—who's the charity for, exactly?"

 

"The Aerys Project."

 

"For your father?"

 

She leaned into him—the scent of vanilla-dipped fruit snaking through his airways as she gently spoke, "It all began with Rhaegar just a few years after I was born, when our father was finally committed. It started as a small nonprofit to help fund treatment and support for those suffering major neuropsychiatric disorders, such as schizophrenia. But we're slowly branching out as the company grows. As we came of age, Vis and I began to get more involved, as well."

 

"Which is another reason my brother _insisted_ that I show my face. He's not _all_ bad."

 

"No," Jon agreed, taking a sip from his small glass of ice water. "Just mostly."

 

Daenerys rolled her eyes, choosing not to take the bait. It was then he was struck with a sudden pang of guilt for trying to get her to stay in for the night.

 

"You've never mentioned any of this before now. How come?"

 

"I didn't have time."

 

"Didn't have time? In _nearly_ a month together?"

 

"Nope. Too busy fucking you," Dany winked before raising her glass and sipping from its rim.

 

Talisa and Robb had found them, both giggling and carrying small trays with a colorful range of free drinks. After setting them down on their placemats, Talisa pointed toward the meager stage.

 

"Wow! _That's_ your father, Jon?"

 

"Unfortunately..."

 

"He is _hot!_ " she whisper-shouted, her mouth hanging open as she gawked.

 

"I _don't_ need to hear that sort of thing," he pleaded, waving the comment away as if it'd been accompanied by a foul odor. "And _what_ is with all the drinks?"

 

"We're just helping the cause," Robb replied before tonguing the thin straw in one of his many glasses.

 

"And how, exactly, is your collection of free drinks helping _the cause_?" Daenerys a cocked an eyebrow.

 

"You see," Talisa cleared her throat. "The more _we_ have to drink, the less there is available for... those afflicted."

 

"Good one, love."

 

"How _charitable_ of you both," Jon scoffed.

 

Drinks still in hand, Robb and Talisa leaned into a celebratory kiss. Jon watched them with a measure of envy—wishing he could freely smooch the woman beside him, too. When he met her eyes, he knew the feeling flowed both ways. Dany settled on a squeeze to his knee under the table. Jon weaved his fingers through hers as his father— _her brother—_ made the final adjustments to the microphones on either side of his harp. A hush fell over the room.

 

The song had begun rather simply, as if Rhaegar was warming up rather than performing—hesitantly plucking away at the strings as if he were acquainting himself with the instrument for the first time, smiling like a fool in love all the while. The pace picked up the way a pulse might quicken—it was almost as if Jon could feel each gentle strum like his own heartbeat. It reminded him of the effect Daenerys had over him, and he gave her hand a light squeeze.

 

Waning, then, the song slipped into a slow, somber cadence. One hand followed the other straight down the scale, always just short of touching the other. As the notes became darker, almost too dark for the instrument—Rhaegar pursed his lips into a frown, his deep indigo eyes glistening. His hands inched apart until he'd stretched his full wingspan, plucking the strings at opposite ends of his harp. As the song concluded, Dany wiped a tear away. Even Jon couldn't help but applaud the piece.

 

Rhaegar stood and took a bow before gesturing for Viserys to join him on stage. The crowd began another round of applause, all except for Daenerys, who began stroking Jon's thigh under the table. For several minutes they were captive as her brother told the story of how the organization was founded, and a few accompanying tales of what they'd achieved so far in their years active. Frankly, whatever he'd said went right in Jon's ear and out the other—he was too busy concentrating on trying to look as if he wasn't being fondled over his pants by his aunt.

 

Finally, the speech was over with, and Dany's hand, gone right along with it. This time they both lent applause as the odd and portly perfumed man from earlier took the stage next to announce the winners.

 

Daenerys began fumbling with her phone under the table, seemingly hiding it from Jon. It wasn't like her to be secretive. He frowned, trying his best both not to pry, and to keep his mind from jumping to all the wrong conclusions.

 

Suddenly, his favorite vanillic scent began wafting again as Daenerys leaned into him with a whisper, "You showered, right?"

 

"Yes," he gulped, suddenly nervous. "Why?"

 

Daenerys grabbed her clutch from the table before tucking it under her arm. Without another word, she stood and began walking away from him and straight toward the double doors. As she wandered away, she pulled out her damned phone again, smiling upon her exit. Jon's heart sank.

 

Before he could dwell on it, he felt a buzzing in his pocket. A new text message.

 

_Because I hate the taste of latex._

 

He smiled as he read her text, a small swarm of butterflies hatching in his gut at the mere implication...

 

Again, his phone buzzed.

 

_Take the elevator to the basement of the parking garage in five._

 

Jon listened for a few moments as the high bidders of the lower-ticket items were announced, each with its own round of applause—his pants only shrinking in size the longer he waited. Though he tried his best to calm down, it was of little use. He tried, instead, to discreetly arrange himself enough so that it wasn't immediately apparent he was smuggling what was, by now, a rather painful erection.

 

 _I can't wait any longer_ , he decided as he rose, practically running for the doors that led to the elevator. He wiped his sweating palms on his suit jacket as he took the trip down, wondering what it was Daenerys had planned.

 

The doors opened to a scene that could've come straight out of a thriller—a dark and seemingly abandoned parking garage, save for just _one_ car, complete with an ominous flickering light above it.

 

Unsure what else to do, he approached the vehicle—the classic Ford Cortina, whose bidder was somewhere on the floor above them right now, with no idea what was about to take place in their new car. The back door was wide open.

 

"Daenerys?" he called as softly as he could, his voice still echoing through the glaring emptiness.

 

"C'mon," she called, her voice muffled within the car's interior.

 

Upon reaching her, he stood just outside, hesitating. "Have you gone _mad?_ "

 

"I might if I don't get you out of those pants and into my mouth."

 

Immediately, his blood began pulsing through his veins. Jon's mind pleaded with him to make the better decision—to wait. It wouldn't be much longer before they could escape for the night. But his cock, however, had other plans—mostly to paint itself red with her lips. Around one another, it seemed they were virtually incapable of making good decisions.

 

"Get in," she ordered, with an arm slinked over her seat.

 

Unable to help himself, crawled right inside, closing the door behind him. It was much more spacious than his car—even the leather smelled newer, despite being almost a decade older.

 

"What possessed you to climb into a twenty-thousand dollar car to fool around?"

 

"Twenty- _seven_ , to be exact," she clarified. "But it's fine—we won't make a mess."

 

"How can you be sure?"

 

"Because I plan on swallowing."

 

Slamming straight into his ribs, Jon's heart went haywire as Dany placed a quick kiss to his lips, almost certainly marking him up with her lipstick. Hastily, she unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, tugging them down just enough to fish him from his boxers.

 

"Go on, _nephew_ ," she cooed, lightly stroking him with her fingers. "Get comfortable."

 

Jon settled into the corner of the back seat as best he could. Dany sank right to the floorboard, stuffing his cock between her lips, wasting no time before swallowing him whole. He sighed with pure elation once enveloped in her warm, wet mouth.

 

Stunned, he watched her work—the way her red lips chased her slick hand as it twisted all along his shaft—the sheer enthusiasm enough to make his head spin.

 

She squeezed him straight past her tonsils, her throat constricting as she reflexively swallowed her saliva, doing her best to keep her vow of _not making a mess_. Unable to help it, his cock twitched in her throat, triggering her gag reflex. Dany stopped just long enough to catch her breath.

 

After a grunt and with great vigor, she gorged on him again. With every sound she'd coaxed from his lips, she hummed her pleasure—sending vibrations all along his shaft that he swore he could feel all over his body. Tangling his fingers through in hair, he held it back and out of the way as she bobbed her head—her lips puffed and swollen from her efforts and staining his cock dark pink.

 

Only a few strokes more was all it took—and Dany was prepared. She took him deep in her mouth again, teasing his head with the back of her tongue as she pumped her hand. Eagerly, she swallowed each spurt as it came, refusing to stop until she'd sucked him dry and left him heaving and slumped against the seat.

 

"Oh no," she said, still holding his cock in her hand as it softened in her palm. "This lipstick was meant to be kiss-proof."

 

"In fairness," he breathed, "Most kisses are not quite so... _laborious_."

 

Dany wiped the stains from her hands with the loose fabric of her dress. Since she'd left Jon in a rather useless, dumbstruck state, she took the liberty of re-dressing him.

 

"I hope you know that just because you've come _twice_ today—it doesn't mean you're off the hook tonight."

 

"Of course not."

 

"Got another one in you, then?"

 

He laughed, "Don't I always?"

 

" _Good_ ," she grinned, grabbing her clutch and fishing around for her lipstick. After reapplying it, she took another look at Jon.

 

" _Shoot_ , I got some on your lips."

 

Jon wiped it away with the back of his hand, "Don't worry about it, babe."

 

"Alright, you go on ahead. I'll follow behind after a few."

 

"I think I'm going to ride the elevator up to my car and wait for you there."

 

She nodded, "I'll try to be quick."

 

"No rush."

 

After lifting herself back up onto the seat, she leaned over Jon, giving him another quick kiss before opening the car door.

 

" _Dany_ ," he grumbled, wiping her lipstick away a second time.

 

" _Damn_. I forgot. Sorry."

 

"It's fine, really. I'm headed to my car, anyway," he said, stepping out of the Cortina, his brain immediately reprimanding him for what he'd just done in the back of someone else's car.

 

Still riding his high, he stumbled his way to the elevator on legs wobbling like gelatin. As he selected the button for the top floor of the garage, his phone buzzed.

 

_Hate to see you leave..._

 

Just as he finished reading, another text popped up.

 

 _...But love to watch you go_ ♥

 

Jon smiled again, kicking himself for letting his trust issues flare up earlier in the evening.

 

Just then, the doors to the elevators opened prematurely at ground level. Viserys was just beyond him, standing amidst a group of attendees. Unfortunately, he'd spotted Jon and took a double-take as a few more passengers boarded the elevator. His lilac eyes narrowed as they dropped from Jon's eyes and right to his lips.

 

He panicked, wiping his lip with his thumb. He looked down and saw red. _Shit_.

 

After the elevator doors closed, he slumped against the wall, feeling both careless and defeated. _Viserys couldn't know, could he?_ he wondered. _No, of course not. He was only glaring because he hates me_. Not even Viserys would jump to the conclusion that his nephew and sister were messing around— _would he?_

 

 _It's just your paranoia_ , he told himself as he walked to his car. Luckily, Jon's plan of parking away from the other cars had worked—another stretch of eerily empty and unused parking space—both protecting his car from scratches, and providing privacy... Unavoidably, his mind wandered back to Daenerys and how beautiful she looked tonight—the way her hair fell over her shoulders, the thin black fabric that clung to her body—he couldn't wait to tear it off her. Sighing, he plugged the aux cord into his phone and pulled up one of the many playlists she'd made for him, sinking into his seat as he waited to take her back home.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know. Nightflyers isn't out 'till fall. But I couldn't resist it.
> 
> Lastly, there will be another chapter, presumably. When? I don't know. I trust Linctavia to crack the whip!


	3. Do You Celebrate Your Dark Side?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I officially return to the world of fanfiction with this chapter! Go easy on me, guys. I'm very out of practice and I've had a terrible month. For those of you who follow me on [Tumblr](https://tomakeitbeautifultolive.tumblr.com/), you know exactly why. For those of you who don't know, well. Our very own [Allegre](https://archiveofourown.org/users/allegre/pseuds/allegre), one of my dearest friends, was critically injured in an accident at the very beginning of July. It's been a loooong and stressful month, to say the least. Completely devoid of creativity. But she pulled through, because she's a _fucking superhero_.
> 
> And so, this chapter is dedicated to my heroine, my muse, my _Lucasta_ —Allegra. ♥

 

* * *

 

 

After finishing up early at work, Daenerys rushed over to Jon's place, excited to start indulging in their one month anniversary. Over the past several weeks, she'd hatched the perfect plan to reveal her surprise. With any luck, he'd have escaped work early, too, and they'd get to celebrate just as soon as she stepped inside his apartment.

 

Daenerys approached his door as quietly as she could manage, hoping not to rile Ghost. She inserted the key, turning it as gently as possible until the door clicked. _Good_ , she thought, seeing no sign of the white muzzle that normally greeted her upon entering.

 

" _Jooooon_ ," she called in the most sultry voice she could muster. "You home? I've got a surprise for you!"

 

As the door swung open, Daenerys was surprised to see a woman standing in Jon's kitchen. Her heart sank, assuming the absolute worst of the woman clad in a blue floral blouse and dark-wash jeans. A braided, brunette ponytail swung as the mystery woman turned to greet her.

 

"Oh," she said, surprised. "Hello, there."

 

A sudden relief washed over her as she recognized the same thick, husky northern accent. _Lyanna Stark_ , Daenerys knew, even though they'd never met, and she hadn't even seen so much as a photo. Rhaegar had spoken of her beauty rather often over the years, and how much their son had favored her. Daenerys stood frozen in the doorway as the women examined one another. This had been the last thing she expected upon turning that door handle, and she was unsure exactly how to proceed.

 

"I'm afraid my son isn't here," Lyanna broke the silence, moving from behind the kitchen island to greet Daenerys with an outstretched hand. "I'm Lyanna."

 

"I know," she timidly replied, offering a weak handshake.

 

Lyanna raised an expectant eyebrow, "And you are...?"

 

"Sorry," she spat. "I'm... Daenerys."

 

"Daenerys," she tried the name out on her tongue, sounding eerily similar to her son. "That's pretty." Lyanna smiled, finally releasing Dany's hand. "Are you the girlfriend, then?"

 

" _Girlfriend?_ " Daenerys almost cringed as she repeated the word back to her nephew's mother. She had no idea how much Jon had divulged, though she'd expressed her disinterest in exposing their relationship for the time being—at least while Jon and his father were still so at odds.

 

"I suppose not, then," Lyanna frowned. "Do you mind my asking how you know my son?"

 

"I, uh-," she stammered, "Well, I'm technically Jon's aunt."

 

"Rhaegar's sister. Of course," she whispered, the realization almost robbing Lyanna of her voice. "You look just like him," she added after a slow gulp.

 

"And Jon looks so much like you."

 

The sentiment had garnered a chuckle. "You think so? I think he looks like his father, thank the gods. Just as irritatingly handsome, too."

 

At that Daenerys couldn't help but laugh and nod along. "He is, indeed," she agreed, a bit too quick in her response, and a bit _too_ enthusiastic.

 

Luckily Lyanna left it at that. "You look so young to be Rhaegar's sister."

 

"It is quite the age gap, at twenty years. I admit, Rhaegar has been more like a father to me than a brother."

 

"On account of Aerys..." her voice trailed off, likely aware of their father's schizophrenia, but perhaps reluctant to label to his affliction so openly. And so, Daenerys only politely nodded as Ghost came running from the bedroom to greet her.

 

"If you don't mind my asking, Daenerys, how is it you came to have a key to my son's apartment?"

 

"Well," she hesitated, answering Ghost's demands for ear scratches. "When I'm in the neighborhood, I pop in and walk Ghost for him."

 

"Is that why you're here, now?"

 

"Yes," she lied, her gift for Jon burning a hole in her bag, just waiting to be used.

 

"Luckily for Ghost, he's already gotten a nice, long walk since I've been here a few hours, now, waiting to surprise my son."

 

It was then Daenerys noticed how spotless Jon's apartment was, for a change. All the trash from his nightly takeout gone from the counters, Ghost's hair vacuumed from the floors and the couch, Dany's few undergarments previously strewn about suddenly missing. From where she'd stood, she could even see Jon's bed had been made—and that Lyanna had likely found the small mountain of condom wrappers by his bedside and disposed of them, herself. _Oh gods_ , she cringed.

 

"All right," she nervously said, "If Ghost has already had a nice walk today, then I suppose I'm no longer needed here, am I? It was nice meeting you, Lyanna."

 

"You, too, Daenerys."

 

Just as she reached the door, Lyanna called after her, "Wait!"

 

With her hand on the knob, Daenerys paused, turning back to Jon's mother.

 

"You said you had a surprise for him. For Jon."

 

" _Oh_ ," she flushed. There was no way in seven hells Daenerys could hand it over to Lyanna. Dipping her hand into her bag, she hoped to find something—anything—that might pass for a surprise. When she came upon and fresh, unopened packet of treats for Ghost, she began internally thanking the gods—the old _and_ the new.

 

"Ah, here it is," she smiled before instructing Ghost to sit pretty. As he crunched away on his treats, Lyanna folded her arms suspiciously.

 

"If you walk Ghost for Jon, what is it he does for you, exactly?"

 

 _Many things_ , she thought to herself, trying her best to stifle a smirk. "Jon... lets me borrow his car on occasion."

 

"His _Firebird?_ " Lyanna playfully scoffed. "He must _really_ like you."

 

Before she could answer, she felt the doorknob jiggle, giving her only a few seconds warning before Jon pushed his way inside, donning an impish smile and carrying a package of fresh lemon cakes under his arm.

 

"Mom!" he shouted upon seeing Lyanna. His gaze then drifted to Daenerys. "And Dany...?"

 

"Don't mind me. I was just leaving," she said, feeling a twinge of hunger upon seeing that Jon had meant to surprise her with one of her favorite treats, likely an anniversary gift.

 

"I'll walk you out," he insisted, pushing Daenerys through the doorway.

 

"Jon?" Lyanna called, waving her hands incredulously as her son left her alone inside his apartment.

 

The pair didn't say a word to each other until they were safe behind the elevator doors.

 

"These are for you, you know," he grumbled.

 

"I had a feeling. But If I take those lemon cakes with me, she'll know something is up."

 

"No she won't, why would she?"

 

"Because she already suspects you've got a girlfriend."

 

"What? _How?_ "

 

"Oh, _I don't know_ ," she said sarcastically, "That my underwear was all over the apartment you never cleaned? Or maybe that you never take the fucking trash out of your room, Jon."

 

Jon grimaced. "Then fuck it, I'll just tell her."

 

"No."

 

"Why? I told you I don't care who knows."

 

"I _do_ care, Jon," she insisted. "Not until you make an honest effort in improving your relationship with Rhaegar."

 

"Why, exactly? So he can disown me for fucking his sister?"

 

" _Jon_..."

 

"My mom doesn't even talk to your brother. In fact, she goes out of her way to avoid him at all costs. I don't even know that she's said a _single_ word to him in the last decade."

 

"I haven't changed my mind."

 

"Fine."

 

"Will I see you later? Or is she staying the night at your place?"

 

"I don't know, but I'll text you as soon as I do."

 

Jon followed Daenerys out of the elevator, the pair hesitating to part, despite their irritation with each other.

 

"All right, I should go. If I stay any longer she'll get even more suspicious of me."

 

"I don't care about that," he insisted.

 

Dany merely rolled her eyes and began to walk away from him.

 

" _Babe!_ " he shouted after her, his legs quickly following suit. "You're _really_ going to leave without giving me a ki-"

 

After a quick eyeroll, Dany pulled him close, his complaint lost on her lips. The kiss she gave him was short but salacious, her hand snaking into his back pocket for a good squeeze.

 

"Go, then," she whispered, afraid of what she might do if she didn't peel herself away. "Have fun with Lyanna. Just remember... I've got plans for you later, Jon Snow."

 

.  .  .

 

Upon discovering his car smelled a bit _too_ reminiscent of his midnight rendezvous with Daenerys, Jon had just enough time to spritz a bit of his cologne before his mother made it to the passenger door.

 

Lyanna waited until they were both buckled in and out of the parking garage before commenting. "Was that really necessary, Jon?"

 

"Was _what_ necessary?"

 

After cranking the window down, Lyanna waved her hands in front of her face, "It can't have smelled any worse in here than your apartment."

 

"All right, _that's enough_ ," he groaned. "Maybe had you warned me you were headed to town I could've cleaned up."

 

"Where's the fun in that?"

 

"What are you in town for, anyway?"

 

"Ned had a few days off and needed some time away from Cat. So, he decided he'd drive down to see Robb. I took some time off work to join him for the trip, and to surprise you."

 

"I see," he said, focusing most of his attention on the traffic.

 

"Why, did I ruin some plan of yours?"

 

"What makes you say that?"

 

"Because you're acting strangely today."

 

" _Today?_ We've been together all of ten minutes, mom."

 

Once she realized they were headed out of Flea Bottom and toward the nicer part of town, Lyanna perked up. "Where are we headed?"

 

"I'm taking my mother out to dinner."

 

"Where, exactly? We usually just walk down to the deli..."

 

"Oh, _no_ ," he smiled. "Not this time. Those hole-in-the-wall diners are _no_ place for the likes of Lyanna Stark."

 

"Uh huh," she said, giving her son a sidelong glare. "Where to, then?"

 

"You'll see."

 

"I don't like surprises, Jonny, just tell me."

 

"Says the woman who sneaked into my apartment unannounced," he laughed. "I don't think so."

 

"Fine. At least tell me your girlfriend's name, then."

 

Jon's stomach dropped. " _Girlfriend?_ What makes you think I've got one of those?"

 

"You're not dumb, so don't play dumb with me."

 

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Lyanna slump into her seat. "Fine, don't tell me. I'm just glad you're being careful. I'm not ready to be a grandmother. I'm too young for that."

 

"Ugh, _Mom_..." he cringed. "Can we not talk about this right now?"

 

"Suit yourself."

 

After a few awkward, wordless moments, they finally pulled up to the intended destination.

 

" _Lemonwood?_ " Lyanna scoffed. "Oh, Jonny, this is too fancy."

 

"Nonsense. I've been itchin' to take you here ever since I first spotted this place. I know how much you love Dornish restaurants."

 

"Yes, and the ones in the north are horseshit, if you recall."

 

Jon couldn't help himself from chuckling. His mother had a filthy mouth for as long as he could remember, but it never ceased to entertain him.

 

After relinquishing his keys to the valet, Jon took his mother's arm in his and led her through the giant, intricately carved wooden doors. Inside, the air was thick and laden with exotic spices reminiscent of his yearly road trips south for family reunions—the ones where he and Lyanna would indulge in the tradition of finding cheap Dornish buffets at which they'd eat themselves sick. However, it was time for an upgrade.

 

Unfortunately, even though it was still early in the day, the restaurant was full of families and couples hounding the hostess. Jon overheard that the wait would be upwards of one hour.

 

"We'll come back, Jonny."

 

When Jon turned to his mother, he noticed an almost ghostly white figure floating toward them—pale skin and hair, and donning a white suit. _Oh, no_ , he thought, his stomach instantly turning to rot.

 

"Let's go," Jon whispered, barely mouthing the words as he took his mother by the hand. He had to get her out of there. And _fast_.

 

"Lyanna."

 

The man had uttered her name as if it was with his last earthly breath. As she turned to face him, he heaved a sigh so heavy it might've even left him winded.

 

"Rhaegar."

 

Her reply had been just as breathless, with not even a stitch of animosity present in her tone. _What in seven hells?_ Jon wondered.

 

"We were just leaving," he sneered, yanking his mother by the arm. Her hand felt as rigid as stone. Lyanna stood still as an effigy before her former lover, not budging so much as an inch.

 

His parents ignored him as they faced each other for the first time in what felt like a lifetime—at least from Jon's perspective. He couldn't see Lyanna's expression, but his father's indigo eyes glinted like gems as they intently studied her face.

 

Rhaegar's expression contorted then, one mixed with both joy and sadness. His normally musical cadence suddenly slurred, his voice dropping in pitch as he opened his mouth to speak. "It appears time has broken faith with all but you."

 

His father gulped then, looking rather like a drunken fool as Lyanna remained before him, speechless. They exchanged no further words before one of the hosts approached.

 

"Miss Stark?"

 

"Yes?" she replied, though her gaze remained fixated on Rhaegar.

 

"We've found a table for you and your son," the man explained with an impatient hand on his hip.

 

"Yes..." she uttered again, reluctantly peeling herself from the man Jon could've sworn his mother had _loathed_.

 

This time, when Jon tugged her arm, she followed. The pair trailed the host to a small booth by the window with a great view of the city. As they were seated, it struck Jon that his father must've had something to do with it, as they didn't even have time to give their names to the hostess up front.

 

As his mother settled into the booth, he could see that her cheeks were flushed, and that the corners of her mouth were upturned with a hint of a smile. Jon was dumbfounded, never having seen his mother so flustered before. What happened to all of the warnings she'd given him about his _fickle father_?

 

After hiding her face behind a menu, Lyanna resumed acting as normal, _ooh-ing_ and _aah-ing_ at the wide selection of Dornish fare. Jon's menu, however, remained face-down on the table.

 

"Already know what you're going to get, Jonny?"

 

"Yes."

 

Lyanna lowered the menu enough to spy her son with a pair of wide grey eyes. "What?"

 

" _Nothing_ ," he said, folding his arms. "I lost my appetite."

 

"Don't be so dramatic."

 

Jon's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "I was under the impression that you two didn't talk."

 

"We don't."

 

"Then what in seven hells was _that_ all about? Just now?"

 

Lyanna sighed, gently placing her menu on the table and closing it.

 

"I thought you hated him."

 

"I don't _hate_ him."

 

"He's a married man, _mother_ ," he scolded. "He shouldn't be mooning over other women like that. That's exactly what got you into this mess in the first place."

 

" _Mess?_ " she shook her head in disbelief, clearly taken aback by his outburst. "I'll have you know that you're the best damned thing that's ever happened to me, Jonny."

 

Jon furrowed his brow, the guilt of his statement trickling in. "I didn't mean it like th-"

 

"Besides," she interrupted, picking her menu back up. "He's _not_ married."

 

"What? Since when? And _how_ do you know?"

 

"He wasn't wearing a ring."

 

"Probably pocketed it once he saw you," he grumbled, finally picking up his menu.

 

"That's _enough_ , Jon."

 

The pair sat in an awkward silence after ordering their respective dishes. Wordlessly, they gazed out the window, taking in the marvelous view of the historic Red Keep on the horizon, at the heart of King's Landing.

 

Once their drinks arrived with two bowls of leek soup to start, Jon opted to apologize. "I'm sorry, mom. You were right, I was out of line."

 

Lyanna merely smirked at her son as she dipped a shallow spoon into her bowl, collecting the cloudy broth. "You could make it up to me by telling me about that girlfriend of yours."

 

"Mom..."

 

"What's her name?"

 

"Talisa."

 

Before Jon even had time to think, he spat the name of his cousin's girlfriend. _Shit_.

 

"That's pretty," Lyanna said before blowing on her spoon to cool her soup. "Is she as pretty as her name?"

 

"Well, yeah," Jon's face scrunched as lied, trying his best to remember the girl's features. "Tall, thin. Dark eyes and hair."

 

A satisfied smile grew on Lyanna's face. "A _brunette?_ I thought you had a thing for redheads?"

 

Jon sighed, "Why does everyone seem to think that? I've dated _literally_ one redhead."

 

Lyanna shrugged as she browsed the menu, "One girl, you mean."

 

"Two, now."

 

"So you _don't_ have a type?"

 

"Oh, I have a type. It's just not based on something as superficial as _hair color_."

 

Lyanna smirked, "What's your type, then?"

 

Daenerys immediately materialized in his mind's eye, then. "Assertive," he smiled, "Quirky, funny. Thoughtful, empathetic..."

 

" _Empathetic?_ That's a big word."

 

Sighing again, Jon reminded her, "I'm a full-time student, mother, you don't have to act _so astonished_."

 

Embarrassingly, Lyanna clapped her hands together as she fell into a fit of laughter, capturing the attention of nearly everyone nearby, and the place was packed. Jon's eyes roamed the dining area, painfully aware of just how many gazes lingered a little too long on his mother. After he glared down the men currently accompanied by their wives, they finally looked away. _Pigs_ , he thought to himself. Lyanna, however, hadn't noticed at all.

 

Jon examined his mother's face then, realizing just how beautiful she actually was. Irritatingly, Rhaegar's cringey compliment had been spot on—Lyanna might as well have been twenty-eight rather than thirty-eight.

 

"I'm just glad you're not lonely anymore."

 

"I wasn't _lonely_. I had Robb, Sam, Edd, Pyp, and Grenn..."

 

"That's different."

 

"How would _you_ know?"

 

When Jon studied her suddenly ashen face, he knew he'd made a misstep. Ever since Rhaegar had come careening into her life before leaving her alone and with child, Lyanna closed herself off from relationships, entirely. For _twenty_ years. It was, perhaps, the main reason he harbored such resentment toward his father, for seemingly shattering Lyanna's will when it came to love.

 

"Sorry," he muttered. "I didn't mean-"

 

Suddenly, his phone began to vibrate. After tugging it out of his pocket, he saw Robb's name.

 

His mother smiled hopefully, "Is it Talisa?"

 

 _Shit_ , he thought, finally considering that it might've been a terrible idea to give Lyanna the name of _Robb's_ girlfriend, especially with Uncle Ned in town, too. _Why couldn't I have said Yara?_

 

"Nope, it's Robb," he said. "Do you mind if I take this?"

 

"Not at all. Tell him I said hello."

 

Jon leapt from the booth and made his way to the small hallway in which the bathrooms were located. Quickly, he returned his cousin's call.

 

" _What's up, sexy boy?_ "

 

"Not the time for that, Robb."

 

" _Uh oh, what's wrong?_ "

 

"Have you talked to Ned?"

 

" _You mean my_ father _Ned? No... did something happen?_ "

 

Jon could hear the fear rising in Robb's tone, and worked quickly to squelch it, "No. I mean, not that I know of, anyway, but my mother is in town."

 

" _Lyanna? Oh! Tell her I said hello!_ "

 

" _Robb_ ," Jon groaned. "I need to ask a favor of you. A big one."

 

_"Oh, no. What is it?"_

 

"When my mom asked for my girlfriend's name, I told her it was _Talisa_."

 

_"Why in seven hells would you do that?"_

 

"I don't know. But she came down with Ned, so I imagine your father is somewhere in town trying to find you, too. Or maybe he's at your place waiting to surprise you like my mom did to me."

 

 _"And you expect_ me _to lie to my own father about my girlfriend because_ you _happen to be fucking your aunt and can't own up to it? Since when did this become my problem?"_

 

In the background, Jon could hear Talisa's sudden and hysterical laughter before she shouted, " _Let's do it!_ "

 

All that followed thereafter was a muffled argument as Robb likely tried to block the mic. Jon paced uncomfortably, listening to the indistinct voices.

 

 _"Well,"_ Robb finally returned. _"You are one lucky bastard, Jon. Talisa has agreed to your ridiculous terms."_

 

"Oh, thank the gods," he sighed in relief.

 

" _Not so fast. You owe us big time."_

 

"Anything," Jon half-heartedly agreed as he poked his head out of the hallway, only to see Lyanna animatedly speaking with someone he couldn't identify, as they happened to be conveniently blocked by a row of booths, but he had a suspicion nonetheless.

 

"I've gotta go."

 

As Jon approached Lyanna, a head of silver-blonde hair rose from the booth like a sun on the horizon. _Gods damn it_ , Jon thought to himself as he watched his parents sitting across from one another laughing.

 

"You're in my seat," he interrupted with a sneer upon reaching them, irritated at how natural they had looked together.

 

Rhaegar cleared his throat, "Of course. I was just leaving."

 

Jon fought the urge to say _'good'_ as his father wriggled out from the booth.

 

"It was good to see you Lyanna," he said in the same almost lovestruck tone.

 

"You, too," she smiled, a rosy color creeping across her cheeks a second time.

 

"And you, Jon."

 

" _Mmmhmm_ ," he hummed, opting to grab the dessert menu as a means to counter the urge to glare at his father.

 

Once Rhaegar was out of earshot, Jon provided his mother with another mouthful of a lecture, laced with warnings against the man who was more or less an absentee parent for nearly his entire life. Lyanna sat patiently through her son's each and every complaint. She didn't utter so much as a word until she knew he was finished.

 

"You know that was _my_ doing and not his, right?"

 

"What do you mean?"

 

"Rhaegar was even awarded joint custody of you. I refused his child support and though I agreed to let you attend the annual Targaryen family reunions, he respected my wishes when I told him I'd rather he stayed out of our lives."

 

"Why?"

 

"Because I was hurt," she explained with a sigh. "Because I was young and stupid, and I wanted to hurt him, too. And while it worked... Unfortunately, I hurt you, too."

 

"You didn't hurt me."

 

"I _did_. It may be too late to change the past, Jonny," Lyanna said with a pensive smile. "But it's never too late to change our future."

 

.  .  .

 

After assuring Daenerys they'd have the place to themselves for the night, Jon raced home as fast as traffic would allow. His phone buzzed as he pulled into his spot underneath his building. _She must've seen my car from the window_ , he smiled, certain it would be her. After wriggling his phone free from his pocket, he was met with cryptic instructions.

 

_Don't bother coming up without first checking the mail._

 

Shaking his head, he knew not to question her strange texts, anymore. Following her orders had typically worked out in his favor, after all.

 

Impatiently, he raced up to the lobby toward the mailboxes. Upon unlocking the small metal door, he retrieved a manila envelope. After turning it over in his hands, Jon discovered his second instruction, scrawled in an almost too-beautiful script for something he'd be ripping into in mere seconds.

 

_And don't bother coming inside without wearing this._

 

Heat crept into his cheeks as he considered what silly object might be inside the small package. Letting out a nervous exhale, Jon finally ripped into it on the elevator ride up. Inside was a familiar object, though it was one he hadn't seen for almost exactly a month.

 

The blindfold.

 

Jon nibbled at his bottom lip as he inspected the very item that seemed to completely change not only his luck, but the course of his life. For a brief instant, he felt a familiar pang of loneliness upon remembering how it felt before Daenerys entered his life a _second_ time. His pulse began hammering away at his veins, now, as he thought back to the foolish and irrational decision to go ahead and steal a kiss from his aunt under the guise of anonymity.

 

And here they were _celebrating_ it a month later.

 

 _Madness_ , he thought with an insuppressible grin as he came to a stop in front of his door. He tried his best to remain quiet and undetectable from the other side. Carefully, he folded the envelope and stuffed it into his pocket. With a shaky exhale, he equipped his mask, tying it tightly behind his head, careful to keep his curls free of the knot. Blindly, he fumbled with his keys but managed to unlock the door and make his way inside.

 

"Dany?"

 

No answer.

 

Jon began trembling now, the anticipation proving too much for his weary nerves. After closing and locking the door behind him, he listened closely. Ghost sat somewhere nearby, busying himself with his nightly bully stick. Beyond that, the typical noises could be heard—the woosh of traffic on the street below, water moving through old pipes, the rattle of the air conditioner in his window, and the soft hum of the refrigerator.

 

"Have you got it on?"

 

It was almost as if her voice had scattered her familiar scent, carrying it straight to his nose—a lungful of vanilla-dipped peaches. _The One_ , he knew.

 

"Of course."

 

"Come forward. Straight ahead," she instructed. "And try not to _break_ anything."

 

Lightly, he stepped forward, holding his hands out to brace for eventual impact. His fingertips found a pair of knees clasped together, the silky touch of her skin almost beckoning his hands to explore further.

 

Now he could hear the tempo of her breathing increase as he roamed all along the expanse of warm skin, gasping in delight at the absence of fabric as he reached her hip. Daenerys didn't seem to have a stitch of clothing on as she sat upon his kitchen island. The discovery left him at a cruel impasse—unsure whether to keep traveling north to confirm she'd had nothing on, or to capitalize on the nakedness below her waist.

 

As he stalled, a pair of small hands tugged the tucked shirt from his jeans before masterfully working the buttons free. Jon helped her endeavor, shrugging the fabric free from his shoulders and letting it fall to the ground before his hands returned to the swell of her hip.

 

Dany pulled him in for a graceless kiss as she inspected his blindfold, making sure it had been secured tightly in the back. Her breath smelled of lemons, her lips tasted of sugar. The realization of what she'd done made him grin again.

 

"What are you smiling for?"

 

"You taste like lemon cakes."

 

"I ate nearly half the package," she confessed against his lips, allowing Jon a moment to chuckle at her. "Will you help me work it off, then?"

 

" _With pleasure_ ," he groaned upon feeling her hands return to his belt, unbuckling it and snaking it through the loops before letting it fall to the floor. Their noses bumped and tongues danced together almost as an afterthought as Dany stripped him to match her nakedness. Arching her back as he fondled her bare breasts, Dany dragged his tight jeans down to his knees using only her feet—about as far as down she could get them.

 

Jon chased after her mouth as she broke from the kiss, but Dany dodged him a second time, "Your kisses almost _burn_ , Jon."

 

"Sorry," he groaned again. "Must be all the spice from dinner."

 

"It's distracting. It tingles."

 

" _Tingles?_ "

 

His mask wrinkled as he quirked a brow, suddenly struck with an idea. He held Dany steady as he covered her torso with soft kisses. Taking only a few nibbles from the underside of her breast, he made a swift path down to her mound, hoping to weaponize whatever capsaicin might be still be preserved on his tongue.

 

Jeans still cuffing his legs together, Jon knelt awkwardly before Daenerys as he pulled her bottom closer to the edge of the island. He teased her first with the tip of his tongue, trailing light dabs along the petal-like swell of her lips, already slick with dew. He almost cursed his blindness, then, wishing he could indulge in the sight of her legs spread out before him, the rise and fall of her chest as she endured his teasing. Instead, he focused on the way the soft skin conformed to the tip of his tongue as he explored her, his mind painting a lewd picture of exactly how it might look. With his sight robbed from him, he indulged in the dulcet quality of her soft sobbing, of the audible sound of her wetness as his tongue plunged through it, coating his taste buds in the slightly sweet and incomparable flavor of her.

 

" _Distracting_ ," she said again, pushing his head away from her and catching her breath.

 

Jon stood, taking the time to step out of his jeans, balancing on either leg as he pulled his socks off. Dany had jumped down from the island, placing a palm to his abdomen and guiding his backward steps until he struck the back of his couch. Momentarily, Dany left him standing in his living room naked.

 

"Can you tell a difference?" she asked.

 

"I don't know what you mean."

 

"I turned a light on."

 

"I can't see anything at all."

 

And that was the truth. It was as pitch-dark to him now as it had been since he'd first entered. After another few seconds she'd returned to him, saying nothing, nor had she offered him her touch.

 

"Dany?" he asked, growing impatient and perhaps a little nervous.

 

"Just testing you..."

 

"In what way?"

 

He imagined she might be motioning in front of him, perhaps flipping him off or pulling a face—whatever it might be, he honestly couldn't tell. Before he could think too hard on it, he felt soft fingertips tickling the divot beneath his hip's furrow. Dany always loved touching him there.

 

From there, her hands made their way south—first over his legs and then softly up the sensitive skin along his inner thighs. Already he shuddered, her touch all the more overwhelming when not paired with the sight of her.

 

Soon enough, she kissed the path of tingling skin, pushing a thigh up as she inched closer to its crease. A soft, attentive mouth swept along his testicles as she kissed her way to their base, her nose digging into the sensitive skin. Jon dug his nails into her crown of braids to keep himself from tearing his mask away to watch the obscenity of her teasing. Dany dragged the flat of her tongue over the swell of soft flesh before pulling as much as she could into her mouth, leaving him panting. Soon, the heat of her flushed cheeks brushed against his length, his mind reeling over how sweet it must look. If only he could see...

 

" _Dany_..."

 

Just as he croaked her name his cock involuntarily jumped, striking her in the face as it fell. Jon flushed red hot as Dany erupted with laughter.

 

"Little Jon is jealous, is he?"

 

" _Please_ don't call it that," he groaned.

 

She pressed her lips to the tip before enclosing her mouth around it just long enough for a small taste, wet on her tongue. "Don't be jealous, little Jon," she whispered, forcing another twitch beyond his control, as if it were asking for the relief of her mouth all on its own.

 

"Dany, _don't_ ," he pleaded again.

 

"Or else what?" she challenged, the smirk apparent in her tone. "Will you take it away from me?"

 

He braced himself for her continued touch, but it never came. After an awkward, moment she abandoned her previous task, taking tastes of his body as she rose to her feet. Gripping his hips, she used him to balance on her tiptoes long enough to tug his bottom lip with a soft bite.

 

"C'mon," she whispered, leading him into the bedroom by the hand.

 

Verbally, she instructed him to lie down before her, taking care to manually inspect the blindfold—her hair sweeping his skin so gently a shiver ran the length of his spine.

 

"Tell me what you see."

 

"Nothing."

 

He felt the weight of her indenting the bed on one side and then the other, perhaps hovering over him. Jon kept quiet, and kept his hands to himself for a minute or two, just waiting for something else to happen, yet it didn't.

 

"...Dany?"

 

"Yes, Jon?"

 

"Um... What are you doing?"

 

"Testing whether or not you can see me."

 

"What? _How?_ "

 

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

 

As she laughed, Jon squinted his eyes as if to hear better—guessing merely by the sound of her voice that she had been facing away from him. Knowing that she was naked, the thought made him squirm.

 

"Go ahead and touch me."

 

With her permission, Jon reached out toward where he was sure her legs would be. It wasn't long before his hands found the back of her thighs. Slowly, he kneaded his way up to her bottom—she was bent over just above him, on full display yet he couldn't see a thing.

 

"Let me take this off. Let me see you," he pleaded.

 

"Nope."

 

Lithely, Dany reclaimed one of her legs before flipping around. She settled in beside him, taking his hand in hers. She placed kisses to each of his fingers and his palm before bringing it to her breast. As he fondled her, she leaned into him, laving his neck until she found his sweet spot. Though she couldn't tell, his eyes spun to the back of his head as her tongue went swirling around his earlobe, even dipping just inside.

 

It was a torment he could only take so much of before his body began writhing under her touch—soft fingertips tracing each ridge of his abdomen as she further unraveled him with her tongue.

 

"I yield," he croaked, dodging any further assault.

 

A soft giggle tickled his neck as Dany finally pulled away, only enough to kiss away the sweat that beaded his forehead. Suddenly, the weight of her shifted again and before he knew it, the mattress indented on either side of his head. After lifting his arms upward, he found a pair of ankles just above his shoulders. Saliva pooled in his mouth once it dawned on him what was soon to follow.

 

"Scoot down," she commanded.

 

Wasting no time, Jon used the sheet to drag his body further down the mattress as Dany knelt, her calves brushing against shoulders as she settled in. Her scent filled his lungs as he maneuvered beneath her, raising his arms to caress her body. Using his hands, he urged her down on his face—something he'd only dreamed of doing up until this point. For the dozenth time, he stretched his imagination—picturing how exquisite her body must look from this angle.

 

Finally, she was low enough that he could latch onto her with his mouth. She policed his roaming hands, fastening them to her hips as she started rolling them, grinding against his face. Jon had to carefully time each inhalation as she rubbed her cunt from his tongue to his nose, finding it impossible to employ any sort of skill beneath her bucking. Finally, she abandoned her grip on his hands, reaching forward to run them through his hair, guiding his head to match her every movement. Unable to help himself now that his hands were free, he started tugging at his cock as she smothered him, coating him in her arousal as she used his face to chase her climax. Tirelessly, he wiggled a stiff tongue about, hoping it might help aid her endeavor. After a few more light-headed moments, he felt her thighs begin to tremble against his cheeks. Making one final pass, she settled on his mouth.

 

"Suck," she instructed him with a breathless grunt.

 

Taking as much of her into his mouth as he could, Jon feverishly obeyed her order, drawing in a lungful of fresh air through his nose. His hands snapped to her waist to hold her steady with each new quake, and his groin tightened, just aching to be taken inside of her in any way she saw fit.

 

After finishing, she awkwardly shuffled off of him and onto her knees beside his body. It wasn't long before her mouth was back on his. Sloppily, he kissed her with numb lips and an exhausted tongue. Together they indulged in her taste, a hint of lemon still present on her tongue. As she kept his mouth occupied, she flattened a palm over the panes of his chest, slowly making her way south over his abdomen. Her lips weren't far behind, lazily trailing kisses from his neck down the same path. Once she reached his groin, her fingers danced through the coarse hair as her tongue swirled around his navel—the combination enough to curl his toes. Just when he thought she might finally take him into her mouth, she lifted herself from the bed without warning.

 

"Where'd you go?"

 

"Nowhere."

 

Jon waited for her, propping himself up on his elbows impatiently.

 

"What can you see?"

 

"Nothing. It hasn't budged an inch, I swear."

 

Trying his best to keep patient in the darkness, he was unable to see what it was she might be up to, now. "Come back," he begged after a moment. "You can't stop there. It's cruel."

 

"Is that any way to speak to your aunt?"

 

"I suppose not," he smirked, still enjoying the taboo a little too much, even a full month later.

 

"Hands behind your head."

 

It wasn't a command he had any inclination to evade, so he did Dany's bidding, interlocking his fingers at the base of his head. After pushing his knees apart, she climbed onto the bed between them. Jon threw his head back in relief as Dany finally took his cock in hand, giving it a few soft strokes before planting soft, wet, open-mouthed kisses all along his shaft.

 

Abruptly she stopped, keeping her hand and mouth still for a few seconds before continuing on again. _Odd_ , he thought, but not for long—her pillowy lips finally parting, inviting him inside. Since she'd driven him near to madness before taking him into her mouth—he couldn't help the pitiful whimpering that followed as she fell into a dependable rhythm. His stunted sense only heightening the sublime sensation of her touch, having no choice but to focus on it. He might've even lost himself in it had she not stopped every few moments to pause without explanation, interrupting the otherwise steady climb toward his release.

 

"Why do you keep stopping?"

 

Even as he voiced his question, she kept him inexplicably still in her mouth.

 

" _Dany?_ "

 

After letting his cock fall from her lips and back onto his stomach, she replied, "You talk too much."

 

"Answer the question."

 

"Sorry? Did you happen to forget who is in charge, here?"

 

" _Please_."

 

She sighed. "I can't tell you."

 

"Why not?"

 

In an effort to distract him, she climbed further up his body, making sure his cock was perfectly tucked between her legs before straddling him. Daenerys began rocking her hips, thoroughly saturating him. For a few moments, Jon endured the cruel teasing, remembering how incredible it felt to be inside of her without the usual thin covering of latex separating them. _Too risky_ , he quickly reminded himself, taking one of his hands from her hip and reaching his bedside drawer for a condom.

 

However, Dany caught him by the wrist. "Do you want to keep asking stupid questions, _nephew_ ," she asked, letting go of his hand so she could guide him inside of her. Immediately, he could feel the slight thrum of her pulse as she clenched tightly around his cock. "Or do you want to come inside of me?"

 

" _What?_ "

 

Instinctively, he raised his hand to his blindfold, hoping to remove it to gauge her reaction—but Dany quickly thwarted his attempt, catching him by the wrist a second time.

 

"Stop that," she commanded, cruelly grinding him so hard the head of his cock started to ache from being crammed so far inside of her. "Keep it _on_."

 

"You're going to have to get off of me, Dany. And _soon_."

 

" _No_ , I'm not," she said confidently. "I'm on birth control."

 

"Since _when?_ "

 

"Happy anniversary," she sweetly said, dodging his question as she dipped down to place a wet kiss to his lips. "Hands behind your head."

 

Again he obeyed her, locking his fingers together just below the knot in his blindfold as he digested her words. With a palm firmly planted on his abdomen, she began to bounce, falling into a comfortable rhythm before slowly incorporating her usual level of expertise.

 

Since Jon had little access to any other sensation, he could feel so much happening inside of her—the trifecta that would be his undoing. The pressure as she gripped him hard from the inside, the circular roll of her hips, the way she'd arch her back before each downward stroke. It was quite possibly the most incredible physical sensation he'd ever felt, but the innate fear of letting go inside of her was enough to ward off his climax.

 

While the blindfold had heightened his other senses, he fought to piece together what she might look like in the moment, using only his memories. Wanting nothing more than to reward her efforts, Jon imagined pink-flushed cheeks, skin slick and perspired, a hairline dark with sweat and sprouting small curls as she worked.

 

Finally, the bevy of sensations had culminated and Jon pressed his legs together tightly, rigid against Dany's thighs. Knowing just what that meant, she squeezed back, tirelessly heaving her weight above him as she groaned, almost possessive in her anticipation. He came in the midst of her exaggerated movements, a mess of several warm eruptions that filled her a little too well. As a result, a small, warm flood saturated the blanket below as Dany lifted herself off, trembling as she settled in beside him, her skin hot like lava.

 

They lie together, glued to each other with sweat as they panted, catching their breath.

 

"Why are you frowning?" Dany asked after a moment.

 

"You had this whole elaborate plan tonight. And me? All I got you was fucking _lemon cakes_. I even took my _mother_ out to dinner instead of you."

 

"Stop beating yourself up about it. You'd have taken me to dinner had she not surprised you."

 

True to form, he ignored her attempts to soothe him, dwelling on what he perceived to be his inadequacy. "And _birth control?_ Gods, Dany... you know I didn't expect that out of you, right?"

 

"Well, I admit that was more for _me_ than it was, you."

 

With that, they shared a laugh as Jon fished for her hand so he could hold it.

 

"I hate to ask _again_ ," he said. "But can I take this damned thing off, now?"

 

"I suppose so."

 

After finally shedding his damp mask, he cast it aside, sighting with relief the moment he saw Dany's wide, satisfied smile. She looked just as disheveled as he'd imagined, and already he could feel his cock stirring a second time at the sight of her.

 

"Don't get me wrong, tonight was incredible. But was the blindfold necessary?"

 

"It was," she insisted. "You'll see."

 

"What do you mean I'll _see?_ I thought the point was that I didn't see anything you were doing."

 

Dany laughed, sinking into the mattress as she stretched and sprawled. " _Now_ you're getting it."

 

"No, I'm _really_ not."

 

All too soon, Daenerys rolled off of the bed, fumbling toward Jon's dresser, where a pile of neatly folded clothes awaited her. After shaking out a t-shirt, she slipped her arms inside of it.

 

"What are you doing?"

 

"I should get going," she answered. "In case your mother pops back up in the morning."

 

"Please don't put any clothes on. She won't be back, I swear it."

 

"How can you be sure?"

 

"Because she was so insistent I spent the night with my _girlfriend_ instead of her, and strangely adamant on putting herself up in the _nice_ part of town, as if she suddenly hates Flea Bottom."

 

Daenerys quirked an brow as she listened, folding the shirt back up, remaining gloriously naked as she sauntered back to the bed, slipping in beside him.

 

"Oh, no," Jon groaned, slathering a palm across his forehead.

 

"What?"

 

"My _girlfriend_..."

 

"Jon, we talked about this," she sighed. "I told you I wasn't comfortable coming out with our relationship just yet."

 

"I'm well aware, Dany. However, I'm shit at lying. So, when she asked my girlfriend's name? I gave her one. And it _wasn't_ yours."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I always feel the need to justify certain changes to canon (even in Modern AU, lol), I'm going to address the ages here, to clear up any confusion. 
> 
> I didn't want Rhaella to have given birth at thirteen. Yeah, this might be a modern AU about incest, but... thirteen? No thanks! So I bumped it up five years, so she was closer to eighteen, thus making Dany and Rhaegar twenty years apart in age rather than twenty-five. Likewise, Lyanna's age was bumped up, too, so that she is only two years younger than Rhaegar. (To clarify further: Jon: 20, Dany: 19, Lyanna: 38, Rhaegar: 40. If this math doesn't check out, blame the broken brain that came up with this during a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad July!)


	4. Little Jon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know. It's been forever. Distractions in full gear and responsible time management non-existent, what can I say?
> 
> Thank you to everyone who keeps me on my toes and expresses interest in this fic while I am on hiatus - particularly [ toaquiprashippar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/toaquiprashippar/), [ starkgaryen4life](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkgaryen4life/), [ OweMeOneKenobi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OweMeOneKenobi/) and [ Linctavia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linctavia). You guys are a fic writer's dream!
> 
> Biggest thanks to [Iane_Casey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iane_Casey) \- who kicked my ass into gear big time. This chapter would not have happened so soon if not for her threats. And to those threats I say - I fucking finished before going to bed. Like I said I would. It's 7am now and I expect some kind of reward. Dammit! ♥

 

 

 

Just as quickly as Jon drifted off, he slipped into a free fall. The sensation lasted only a moment before his body jerked to resist it, his arm crashing down on the conference table with a deafening bang.

 

Sam was standing beside a whiteboard, glaring. Jon could feel a number of gazes on him before twisting to confirm his suspicions—met with the stares and snickering of his junior colleagues.

 

Clearing his throat, Sam continued, "As I was saying... The presence of alcohol at events requiring security greatly increases the number of guards needed. In most cases, the number can be simply doubled."

 

That was about all Jon could take before the words all started bleeding together, indistinguishable from the last. Luckily it was information he already knew. So his task during this meeting would be to stay awake and not offend his best friend during his much-dreaded presentation.

 

His mind was so foggy, he could scarcely remember even making it to work that morning. Every part of his body ached, particularly the one Dany had rubbed raw in her endeavor to have him finish inside of her as many times as possible. Which had been three. They had even tried for a forth, but he had to tap out. Now that Dany was on birth control, her libido was out of control, and it had already been rather significant to begin with.

 

As his eyes began to droop again, Jon realized he needed a distraction—something that would keep him awake so as not to make another scene.

 

Carefully, he pulled his phone from his pocket, thinking he might waste some time scrolling through Tumblr in search of memes. Waiting for him, instead, was a video message from Dany. One he couldn't resist taking a peek at—he thought for sure she'd still be asleep for a few hours yet.

 

After checking to make sure the sound on his phone was switched off, he took a look around the room, his colleagues all taking notes on Sam's presentation.

 

Under the table, Jon opened the video file, craning his neck to watch with discretion.

 

It was a quick shot of his blindfolded face as he mouthed her name— _'Dany?'_. The camera turning as she set it on herself, then, holding an index finger in front of her lips as if to say _'Shh...'_

 

The moment she pulled her finger away, she made a fist, moving it in tandem with her tongue as it poked the inside of her cheek, mimicking a blowjob.

 

_Oh, gods..._

 

Jon dragged his hand over his jaw, his face suddenly hot and flushed. The memories from the night before came flooding into his mind, and his poor, chafed cock twitched in his pants. Though he tried to concentrate on the presentation, his mind reeled, wondering how much of their night she'd documented with her phone.

 

In his hands, his phone buzzed again. Successfully, he ignored the urge to check it.

 

...for at least thirty whole seconds.

 

Swiping to unlock, he opened the second clip.

 

It was Dany on her knees before him, her face partially obscured by his cock as she made her way up to it with her mouth.

 

"Oh, _gods_..."

 

This time he'd said it aloud, capturing the attention of Grenn, who was sat to his right. His co-worker leaned back to catch a peek underneath the table to see what he was up to.

 

"Holy shit, you're watching _porn?_ " he asked a bit too loudly.

 

" _Shut up_ ," Jon growled.

 

To his left, Pyp turned, "Wait, what?"

 

"Porn, look!" Grenn attempted to whisper, nodding toward Jon's phone below the table.

 

Flustered, Jon tried to blacken the screen. Instead, the phone slipped right out of his fingers, bouncing straight toward Pyp. Still on screen, the video looped again as his friend retrieved it from the floor.

 

_"Little Jon is jealous, is he?"_

 

Dany's voice. The impact had somehow switched the sound on. _No, no, no..._

 

_"_ Please _don't call it that."_

 

_His_ voice.

 

_Oh, gods, no!_

 

"Holy shit," Pyp gasped, the realization sinking in. "That's _your_ dick!"

 

Horrified, he threw his hands up and the phone fell, skidding across the table. Dany's voice echoed again as the video looped.

 

_"Little Jon is jealous, is he?"_

 

_"_ Please _don't call it that."_

 

By now the entire room had heard the exchange twice over before it descended into uproarious laughter. Half a dozen pairs of hands tried to grab the phone. Luckily, his friend Edd leaned forward to retrieve it from the center of the table.

 

" _Don't_ look at it, Edd," Jon warned, his face burning hotter than all seven hells. "Just throw it back to me."

 

With a nod, Edd closed his eyes before tossing the phone toward Jon, but Sam stepped in to intercept it.

 

"You're lucky it's _me_ today and not Mr. Mormont," Sam started in. "I have a mind to confisc-" he abruptly stopped after taking a quick glance down at the phone. A look of horror flashed over his features before he cleared his throat.

 

_Finally_ , the screen went black. Jon's eyes fell closed as he sighed. He wanted to disappear.

 

"Actually, Jon," Sam turned to him. "Might we step outside?"

 

The rest of the guys _oohed_ the way a classroom might when a kid got called down to the principal's office in grade school.

 

After the door closed behind them, Jon broke into a flood of apologies, "Sam, I'm so sorry. It was an accid-"

 

" _Daenerys?_ " he hissed, interrupting Jon as he folded his arms over his chest.

 

"What?" Jon asked, taking a step back.

 

"You heard me."

 

"You _recognize_ her? How?"

 

"We've met before, you know."

 

"What? When?"

 

"Shortly after you and I met. In fact, it might've been the day you stuck up for me in front of the others."

 

"I don't remember."

 

"We ran into her and your father at the mall. You were so miffed at his mere presence that you stormed right off and left me alone with them."

 

"Right," he sighed, finally recalling the loathsome memory. "I'm sorry."

 

"Daenerys helped me find you," he continued. "I had the maddest crush on her for _months_."

 

Jon nibbled at his bottom lip, "Sam, I can explain..."

 

" _Can_ you, though? That's your _aunt_."

 

" _Shh_ ," Jon hushed him, even though they had been alone in the hallway. "You think I don't know that?"

 

" _How_ did this even happen?"

 

"It's a long story. A _complicated_ story."

 

"Long? How long?"

 

"A month as of last night."

 

"A _month?_ Holy hells," Sam grimaced. "This is why you've been busy every night off for weeks."

 

"Yes."

 

"And you were planning to just _never_ mention this to me?"

 

"No, of course not. I was going to tell you. I just didn't know how... to explain it just yet."

 

"So you've got some sort of incest kink, then?"

 

Jon couldn't help the chuckle that slipped. "No," he raised a brow, "Well, not to begin with."

 

Sam brought his hand up to massage his forehead in contemplation.

 

"I'm in love with her, Sam."

 

"Love?"

 

"Every time I think of her, I feel sick," he confessed. "In-in a good way, though. My stomach does a flip every time I see her, and when she smiles I go weak."

 

Sam sighed as if finally understanding the weight of it. "How did this even happen?"

 

Jon looked through the small rectangular window to the conference room beyond—the guys all huddled around, several sniggering, likely at his expense.

 

"You should get back in there," Jon said.

 

"And you?"

 

"What use is any of that to me? I'm little more than a glorified assistant, Sam."

 

"Don't say that. It's like Mormont's grooming you for management."

 

Jon shook his head as if to shake off the compliment. "Why don't we talk more at lunch? Just me and you. I'm going to go splash some water on my face, but I'll be back to hear the rest. My heart is still racing, so I don't think I'll be dozing off again, this time."

 

"Why are you so tired, anyway?"

 

Jon held his phone up.

 

"That was _last night?_ "

 

"We were up 'till three," he nodded, the clock had since only inched past eight.

 

Sam flushed. "Go on then, Jon. But leave your phone _off_ before you come back."

 

.  .  .

 

After splashing his beet-red face with cold water, Jon paced the bathroom, running his sweating hands over the rough cotton of his slacks. After scanning his memory, he decided it was the most mortifying thing he could remember ever having happened to him.

 

Sighing, Jon bent down enough to check for feet underneath the stalls. He was alone. Since it would be a few minutes yet before his face returned to his normal shade, he decided to open one of the stalls to hide out in the meantime.

 

His phone buzzed again.

 

Groaning, Jon pulled the traitorous contraption from his pocket.

 

Another video. _Of course_.

 

Finding it impossible to resist, he couldn't help but open the file. This time Dany was on all fours above him, holding her finger to her lips a second time. The camera swept upward, giving an almost aerial shot of her arched back. Just behind her, his blindfolded face with her bare ass just an arm's reach from it.

 

_"...Dany?"_

 

_"Yes, Jon?"_

 

The sound was still on.

 

_"Um... What are you doing?"_

 

_"Testing whether or not you can see me."_

 

The image blurred as she slipped the camera between their bodies, sweeping from her breasts and down her belly...

 

" _What_ ? How _?_ "

 

_"Wouldn't you like to know?"_

 

There was a brief, off-center view just between her legs—the exact view he was aching to have had the night prior. Jon thanked the gods that _this_ wasn't the clip his co-workers caught a glimpse of. No, _this_ view was all _his_. And, no matter how many times he'd seen it—it never failed to awaken a primitive need he just couldn't ignore. After pausing the video on a particularly enticing close-up of her anatomy, he ran his tongue over his lips—his mind forgetting all about his embarrassing spectacle and painting in the dark spots of his night with all-new visuals.

 

It wasn't long before his abused groin cried out in agony, again, rubbing against the constrictive fabric of his too-tight slacks—inwardly cursing himself for always insisting on a snug fit.

 

" _Damn it_ ," he groaned as the soreness only grew worse.

 

He closed the video file and swyped a text to Daenerys.

 

_ > Boy have I got a bone to pick with you, babe.              _

 

_A bone, eh? Sounds promising. Tell me more! < _

 

_ > Oh, I'll tell you more, all right. Like how half the people  
       in the meeting saw my dick this morning thanks to your stunt._

 

A few seconds later, her image popped up—an incoming call.

 

"Hey," he answered. Already, he could hear her laughing. "It's not funny."

 

_"It's pretty funny."_

 

"Daenerys..."

 

" _Oh, they should be so lucky. It's gorgeous_."

 

"That's not- ... _It's_ not-," he stammered. "That isn't the point."

 

" _Why'd you open the videos during a meeting, anyway?_ "

 

"I was trying to stay awake."

 

The flush started creeping back into his face as she laughed.

 

"What are you even doing awake?"

 

" _Missing you_."

 

"Is that so?"

 

" _Tell me what you'd do to me if you were home_."

 

"I'd tuck you in and tell you to get sleep so you're awake for dinner tonight."

 

"Tuck _me in? Damn. I thought you said_ -"

 

"Behave," he lightly scolded.

 

" _You're no fun at all_."

 

"Excuse me?"

 

" _So you didn't like part two of your anniversary gift?_ "

 

"You mean the videos? Of course I did. I plan to make use of them when I'm.. you know, _not at work_."

 

She moaned softly against the receiver, then, asking, " _Where are you, exactly_?"

 

"In the bathroom, hiding out like the idiot I am."

 

More laughing.

 

" _Don't you want to know why I sent the videos so soon?_ "

 

Jon sighed, "Sure. Let's hear it."

 

" _Because I'm naked in your bed_ ," she purred. " _Thinking of you. Looking at that pretty cock of yours as I touch myself..._ "

 

"Now _there's_ a video I'd like to see."

 

" _Maybe later_." She laughed again. " _Are you alone, then_?"

 

"What do you mean?"

 

" _In the bathroom_."

 

"Uh, I think so. Last I checked anyway."

 

" _Why don't you join me?_ "

 

"I'm at _work_ , Dany," he swiftly reminded her. "Besides, you've successfully rubbed it raw."

 

" _Have I? How'd I manage that?_ "

 

"By insisting I fuck you three times in succession," he grunted. "Ring any bells?"

 

Suddenly, someone began pissing at the urinal just beyond his stall.

 

" _Shit_ ," he whispered into the phone, "Gotta go."

 

The flush in his cheeks burned as it deepened—dreading whoever it might be just beyond the door, and wondering how much they'd heard.

 

After another moment, he listened intently—hearing the unmistakable sound of a zipper.

 

"Jon," the voice called. "You can come out now."

 

At least Jon knew who it was now— _Grenn_. The very same guy who got him into this mess.

 

Heaving a sigh, Jon unlocked the stall door, swinging it open as he trudged out to face his co-worker.

 

"Whoa," Grenn said, curling his lip.

 

"What?"

 

"Your face looks like a fucking tomato, man."

 

" _Ugh_ ," he groaned, moving toward the sink to splash his face again.

 

"It's not all bad, what happened to you," Grenn assured him with a grin. "I didn't even know you _liked_ girls."

 

Jon shot him a glare. "Of _course_ I like girls."

 

He merely shrugged.

 

"Did you come to check on me?"

 

"Sort of," he admitted. "I wanted to apologize. It's more or less my fault you're hiding away in here, right?"

 

Jon nodded.

 

"Wasn't expecting to hear you having phone sex right after the release of your sex tape, though."

 

" _Shut up_ ," he growled, pushing past his co-worker and through the door.

 

Grenn followed behind him, chuckling to himself as Jon made the walk of shame back to the conference room—perhaps looking even worse after having been freshly taunted.

 

As expected, the moment Jon twisted the doorknob to enter, every head turned to face him—even Sam's—all conversation halting. _For fuck's sake_ , he thought, hoping his brief stint away might've relieved the room of their preoccupation with his shameful blunder.

 

"Hey!" Rast, perhaps Jon's least favorite co-worker of all, shouted. "Little Jon made it back!"

 

The small room filled with another round of laughter, to Jon's chagrin.

 

" _Lit-tle Jon!_ " one chanted, the others joining in the chorus so quickly he couldn't tell who'd started it.

 

" _LIT-TLE JON! LIT-TLE JON!_ "

 

" _Guys!_ " Sam shouted, nostrils flaring in frustration.

 

It was going to be a long day.

 

.  .  .

 

In Mormont's absence, Jon had little else to do but busy himself with his phone as the hours whittled down. It was boring being alone, but a nice respite from the endless jeering from the others. Daenerys went quiet—hopefully sleeping. Also eerily quiet was his mother, who hadn't answered any of his texts. Though it was probably for the best—he'd feel a lot less guilty for being tied up tonight if she managed to keep herself busy.

 

_Just tell me you're still alive when you can._

 

Since he and his mother had only really had each other, it was the sort of text both were used to sending and receiving from one another.

 

Nearly the moment the clock struck five, Jon was out the door and in his car, racing home to Daenerys. Tonight they would meet up with Robb and Talisa to discuss the absurd plan to— _what_ , exactly?—swap partners? The mere thought of it made Jon cringe. _What a mess_.

 

When he arrived home, he was shocked to see Daenerys in a full face of makeup, her hair swept into a braid that wrapped around the base of her head—a few loose curls hanging about her face.

 

Hanging on his bedroom door behind her was a dark red dress on top of one of his suits she must've picked out for him. His stomach churned at the sight—dreading whatever restaurant it was she'd picked out for the night—wishing he could just wear jeans instead.

 

Still dressed casually in a pair of denim shorts and one of Jon's t-shirts, Daenerys grabbed Jon by the waist, pulling him in for a quick kiss. Before he knew it, she'd already retrieved Ghost's leash and headed for the door—the clinking of the metal enough to wake the dog from a dead sleep as he padded forward to greet her.

 

"Go shower then," she shooed him.

 

Jon left a trail of work clothes behind him as he made his way into the bathroom. As he washed, he half-expected Daenerys to sneak into the shower with him, but to his surprise—she never did.

 

Though the near instant he shut the water off, he could hear the click of her heels headed toward him. He toweled off as she hung his suit from the towel bar before setting out a pair of dress socks and boxer briefs on the back of his toilet.

 

"Wow," he breathed. "Nice dress."

 

"It has pockets!"

 

Daenerys spun in a circle, dipping her hands inside. It was strapless, tight at the waist but flared at the hips. The skirt stopped just above her knees—her legs smooth and dark from nylons. She was stunning. And apparently, eyeing his body just as intently as he was, hers.

 

"No," she shook her head the moment she realized his cock was quickly growing. "No time for that, we'll be late."

 

Daenerys left the room.

 

"Late?" he raised his voice enough to carry.

 

Jon could hear the springs in his mattress as she plopped down on it. The noise—which he now associated with driving her into it again and again—did nothing to quell his sudden erection.

 

"We've got a reservation."

 

"A reservation? On such short notice? Where?"

 

"You'll see," she promised. "And hurry up!"

 

.  .  .

 

" _Lemonwood_? Are you serious?"

 

"Don't worry," she trailed off. "It's on _me_."

 

"That's not my issue. I was here _just_ yesterday," he protested.

 

"So? Robb and Talisa weren't. I wasn't. Plus, I've got a sudden taste for it."

 

As she turned to face him, the tip of her tongue unfurled from her mouth, flitting over her top lip suggestively—immediately reminding Jon of the resourceful use of the spice left on his tongue the night prior. Already, his mouth watered in anticipation for another taste of her.

 

He shook the thought from his head, rolling his eyes at her, instead. He liked Dornish food just fine—in fact it might've even been his favorite cuisine but something about the place set him on edge. Perhaps it was just that he and his mother spent most of their meal arguing over his father—so much so that he could scarcely remember the food or the actual dining experience.

 

After helping Robb and Talisa out of the backseat, he watched the valet drive off in his Firebird—the sight never failing to riddle him with anxiety.

 

Inside, Daenerys marched up to the hostess, bypassing the impatient crowd waiting for open tables. The woman greeted her with a wide smile before grabbing a stack of menus and gesturing for Daenerys to lead the way. _Odd_.

 

She picked a corner table nestled against a picture window—the sunset outside draped orange and yellow light across the wood. It felt a bit too large—six chairs rather than four. Daenerys must've pulled some strings, Jon decided as he pulled a chair out for her. Rather than take it, she gestured for Talisa to take the seat, instead.

 

"You're with Talisa, tonight," she winked.

 

For some reason, the comment made Jon flush—though he'd have to get used to it, wouldn't he? After all, that's what they were doing tonight—figuring out the logistics of his spur-of-the-moment lie.

 

He and his cousin, Robb, waited for the ladies to sit before taking their seats, too. The hostess passed the menus to the four of them before skittering off and out of sight.

 

"Wow, this _is_ fancy," Talisa commented, eyes darting around the dining room. The natural light made the golden accents of the booths and tables glimmer—lending a warm calm to the space, despite the cacophony of guests that packed it to the brim. Adding to the illusion was the smoky incense that mingled with the traditional Dornish spices that seemed to tingle upon simply smelling them.

 

The only one at the table not distracted by the surroundings had been Daenerys. Instead, it looked almost like she was waiting for something to happen—long after the waiter came to take their drink orders.

 

Just as Jon opened his mouth to start the necessary conversation, Dany jumped up from her seat, colliding with... his _fucking father_.

 

"Rhae!" she cried, wrapping her arms around her eldest brother's neck.

 

They kissed one another's cheeks, exchanging words Jon couldn't quite hear over the noise. The pair were positively beaming as they giggled, clearly harboring a bond so close Jon felt a strange pang of jealousy bubbling up just under the surface.

 

"Won't you sit with us?"

 

His eyes shrunk to narrow slits, then, serving Daenerys an icy glare. How dare she offer him a seat without so much as consulting the rest of the table?

 

"Funny you should be lurking around here two nights in a row," Jon cut in just as his father pulled out the chair closest to the window.

 

"I could say the same of you, couldn't I?"

 

Jon's miffed expression seemed to wipe the smile right from Rhaegar's face. He cleared his throat, "While I employ others to manage it for me, I admit I like to linger around now and then—it evokes good memories, plus it keeps everyone on their toes."

 

"This is _your_ restaurant?"

 

A heat crept up Jon's neck as Dany cleared her throat, purposely hiding her face in her menu. The past couple of weeks replayed in his mind—the way she'd namedrop the restaurant, even suggesting on more than one occasion he take his mother there someday. All this time she _knew_. It felt like a betrayal.

 

The waiter had returned with _five_ drinks rather than four, carefully passing them around the table.

 

"I see where Jon gets his good looks from!" Talisa blurted, driving her teeth into her bottom lip.

 

_Oh gods._

 

" _Talisa_ ," Robb hissed from across the table. "Best not moon over your _boyfriend's_ father right in front of him, maybe?"

 

If Jon wasn't mistaken, the compliment had even made Rhaegar flush. Just a little bit. _Typical_.

 

"Sorry," she said, a bit too defensively. "It's just—your son looks _just_ like you."

 

"No, he _doesn't_ ," Daenerys and Robb chimed in unison, causing the pair to chuckle as Dany lightly struck his shoulder. "He looks just like his mother," she added. "You'll see."

 

Rhaegar assessed the table, clearing his throat. "You haven't met Lyanna yet, Talisa?"

 

"No, not yet."

 

"I don't see what business that is of yours," Jon grumbled.

 

However, his father was used to his sour mood by now, so the comment hardly fazed him. "I suppose it isn't, I just know you two are rather close-"

 

"We are."

 

"-and I'm willing to bet she's dying to meet your girlfriend," he finished, choosing to ignore Jon's slight interruption. "How's your mother doing, anyway?"

 

"The same as yesterday, I assume."

 

His father smirked. "You haven't... spoken to her?"

 

"No," Jon said with a measure of guilt, having almost forgotten how worried Lyanna's silence had made him throughout his workday. He pulled his phone from his pocket to check for a response.

 

And there it was.

 

_I'm alive. Gloriously alive, in fact._

 

Under the table, he swyped a reply.

 

_The hells does that mean? Are you drunk?_

 

By the time he looked back up, Daenerys had captured Rhaegar's attention, trying to diffuse the tension with small talk.

 

_Working on it. With Ned. And you? < _

 

_ >I'm out to dinner with friends. _

 

_With Talisa? < _

 

_ >...Maybe.                                _

 

"Was that Lyanna?" Talisa asked.

 

"Yeah. Sorry," Jon mumbled, tucking his phone back into his pocket as the gazes shifted back to him again.

 

"And how is she?"

 

" _Gloriously alive_ , apparently."

 

The moment the words left his lips, his father's face broke into an irksome grin—one he tried to hide behind a palm as he rubbed his jaw. Daenerys turned from her brother to her nephew, a brow quirked in curiosity.

 

"Enjoying King's Landing, is she?" she asked, sipping her tea.

 

.  .  .

 

"Are you serious about her?" his father asked in the girls' absence.

 

After an hour or so of speaking with him over dinner, Jon had problems keeping up his general offense at everything the man did or said. At this point, he had to admit that if nothing else, it was good practice for when he'd have to face Lyanna with Talisa by his side.

 

"I mean, _yeah_. I don't really do the casual thing."

 

"I still say you're missing out," Robb insisted.

 

Jon sighed, "I've only ever dated girls I've been in love with."

 

" _Love?_ " Daenerys asked from behind him, having returned from the bathroom with Talisa.. "You love her?"

 

_Right_. The pair had never actually said the three fated words to one another.

 

Jon's eyes darted from her to Talisa, then from Robb to Rhaegar—everyone expecting clarification as the girls settled back into their seats.

 

Sheepishly, he nodded, his reluctant tongue sitting heavy and bone-dry in his mouth. Keeping up the act, Talisa grabbed his hand, lacing her long and slender fingers through his. While he faced the undeniably gorgeous brunette, he angled himself toward Daenerys, hoping she would understand his words were meant for her.

 

"Jon?" Talisa pressed after another moment of hesitation.

 

His hand quivered in hers, and he could feel the weight of four gazes upon him, now. This was not how he'd planned to confess his feelings for Daenerys—through a fucking _surrogate_.

 

"This _isn't_ how I had hoped to tell you," he stopped to swallow. "I should've said it to you every day before now, since it was true from the first. But yes, I—I love you."

 

When he raised his eyes, he saw that Talisa looked downright panicked. Luckily, she was facing away from his father—the only ones able to see her expression were the others already in on the act. Talisa stole a brief peek of Daenerys to gauge her response. Her eyebrows were drawn together as she discreetly nodded to the brunette.

 

"I uh," Talisa began. "I love you, too, Jon."

 

The table fell silent for several moments. Jon hoped the awkwardness between he and Talisa read as nervousness, perhaps, instead of what it actually was—unfamiliarity.

 

"Well," his father finally said, cutting through the silence. "In light of the news, I've got the perfect means for celebration."

 

"What?"

 

The man shyly grinned, "I saw the way you were eyeing Lys the Lovely, so I took it upon myself to-"

 

"I'm sorry," Dany interrupted. "Lys? _"_

 

"What?" Rhaegar asked, whatever moment he was building up to abruptly halted.

 

"Who is _Lys?_ " she hissed the question.

 

Furrowing his brow in warning, Jon clarified, "The _island_. You know, across the sea from Dorne?"

 

"...Oh."

 

As Daenerys dropped her eyes, Jon fixed his gaze on his father, assessing his reaction to the strange outburst. His lips were pursed as his eyes floated upward from his sister, as if in contemplation.

 

Jon sighed. Sensing his frustration, Talisa took Jon's hand in hers—right on top of the table in plain view.

 

"As I was saying," Rhaegar cleared his throat. "I purchased two vacation packages—quite similar to the ones up for auction."

 

"You what? _Why?_ "

 

"I know how hard you've been working and studying. I thought you could use a break—that maybe you'd like to take Talisa."

 

"Oh Jon! _Please!_ " his fake girlfriend shrieked, clearly forgetting that even if he accepted the damned offer—it would be Dany he'd take along with him, not _her_.

 

" _Talisa_ ," Daenerys groaned. "Maybe rein in your excitement a little—for the sake of those _not_ going."

 

"Right," the girl sighed, disappointed.

 

"If you and Robb would like to go along, just say the word, Dany."

 

"No that's not what-"

 

"Yeah!" Robb clapped before wrapping his arm around her shoulders. "Let's do it, Dany. You could use a break too, right?"

 

"Rhae," she pleaded, trying to shrug Robb off of her. "That's _really_ not necessary."

 

"Anything for my sister."

 

.  .  .

 

Basking in the red of a stop light, Jon and Daenerys sat in awkward silence as his cousin and girlfriend pawed at one another in the backseat. Now and then he could see her eyeing him in her periphery, between the curious gazes she'd cast at the couple in the back. If he hadn't been so irritated knowing that the entire night was some set-up, they'd probably be giving Robb and Talisa shit for making out as if they'd been separated for years.

 

At the very least, he felt confident in his and Talisa's ability to fake a relationship. Even though he felt deceived by the woman beside him, he did truly love her. And so, a pretend girlfriend would still be necessary.

 

Finally, they'd reached Robb's apartment. Even after Jon pulled up to the curb, the pair in the back hadn't even noticed the car had come to a stop. Daenerys giggled, and Jon was tempted to whisper a wager on how long it might take them to catch on. Instead, he felt his irritation with her flare, getting the strong urge to go home alone to brood.

 

"All right, break it up."

 

The pair finally tore from one another, huffing for breath before smoothing out their clothes.

 

"How did I do, Jon?" Talisa breathed.

 

"Well enough, though it's not my father I'm worried about."

 

"No?"

 

"I don't imagine I'll be seeing much of him."

 

" _You won't?_ " Daenerys interrupted, folding her arms. "Why not?"

 

"Why bother?"

 

"Well, he _did_ just get you a paid vacation..." Talisa continued.

 

"Which I'm _not_ going to accept."

 

"You're not going to go?" Dany cut in.

 

Jon merely shook his head.

 

"You could use a true break over the holiday."

 

"Not like that, I can't. Not with his money," he flatly stated. "I've made do with staying in Flea Bottom on every other break. Besides, I've got work."

 

"Which you can request off."

 

Frustrated now, Jon turned to her, thoroughly irritated she should keep pressing a relationship with her brother. "And _why_ would I do that? Especially after the stunt you pulled."

 

"Why? What did I do?"

 

"You _know_ what," he seethed.

 

"That was all Robb!"

 

" _Hey!_ " his cousin called from the backseat.

 

"I'm not talking about the _bloody vacation._ I'm talking about never mentioning your brother owned the godsdamned restaurant you _insisted_ we go to. The one you _insisted_ I take my mother to."

 

"You're upset with me."

 

"You think?"

 

The car fell quiet—the only sound had been a slight ruffling of Talisa's dress while she and Robb exchanged looks behind them.

 

"I believe that's our cue to leave."

 

Daenerys slipped from the passenger seat, leaning it forward so the pair could escape.

 

"Thanks for coming out," Jon said, staring straightforward through the windshield, concentrating a bit too hard on the night sky rather than Daenerys—watching the dark colors bleed into what remained of the warm palette, or at least what he could glimpse of the display between the skyscrapers on the horizon.

 

"Thanks for dinner, guys," Talisa said loud enough for both Jon and Dany to hear it.

 

Jon bowed his head, watching as she hugged them both goodbye, unable to help admiring that tiny red dress she had on for at least the dozenth time. His eyes followed her as she returned, leaning over to push the passenger seat back into place. The bust of her dress hung down to provide an excellent view of her cleavage as it jiggled, the fabric barely clinging to her breasts.

 

So lost he'd become in ogling her, he didn't even realize she'd blatantly caught him in the act. The knowing smirk she'd given him afterward made him slip straight back into his irritation, providing himself a necessary reminder to fixate, instead, on anything _but_ her as they drove off.

 

Luckily, Daenerys let him stew in silence for a few minutes. That is, until she realized where they were headed.

 

"You can't take me home."

 

"Why not?"

 

"I left my pills at your place. If I miss a day, I'll have to start the process all over again."

 

"Fine. I'll drop you off first, go grab your damned pills and bring them back to you."

 

"You _can't_ be serious, Jon," she groaned. "You enjoyed yourself tonight, just admit it."

 

He didn't reply. His response verged on ridiculous, he knew. The night _had_ been going well right until the end. But still, he couldn't shake that feeling of deception coiling in his stomach and making him feel ill.

 

"You're not even going to apologize?"

 

"For what, exactly? Making you attend an enjoyable dinner with your father who is desperate to spend time with you even though you act like a child _every_ time you see him?" she pressed.

 

Jon scowled.

 

"Whether or not you're ready to admit it, I think you know full well I only do whatever is in your best interest, _nephew_."

 

Though he could tell from her tone that she was trying her best to lighten the mood, he slipped back into silence.

 

Dany sighed, "I was really hoping for dessert tonight, you know."

 

Unable to help himself, Jon chuckled at that. " _Dessert?_ Well, you should've ordered it at Lemonwood. I've long since lost my appetite."

 

"Don't be so dramatic, Jon. You may not have an appetite, but I do."

 

"Fine," he sighed. "Pick something and we'll stop on the way."

 

"I've already picked something out," she said, fumbling with her phone inside her bag for a moment.

 

"You don't have to show me. Just tell me where to go."

 

Ignoring him, she held her phone up, angling it toward him. "Something like this?"

 

Jon could hear the obscene sounds of slurping before he could take his eyes off of the road long enough to safely glimpse the device in her hands. He saw Dany's face on the screen, her lips stretched around his cock—another clip from the night before.

 

" _Why do you keep stopping?_ " he heard himself ask as Dany's fingers obscured the camera and the video thankfully ended.

 

Though it was already too late. There was no helping the sudden bulge that had sprung in his pants, still aching a bit from overuse the night before.

 

" _Dany_ ," he cringed. "You and these godsdamned videos..."

 

"And here I thought you liked them."

 

"It's _not_ that I don't like them..."

 

Just as began to protest, her warm palm had found his knee, hesitantly rubbing circles into his leg as she made her way up further.

 

"What are you doing?"

 

"Apologizing to you."

 

By now her hand had inched up his thigh, easily finding his cock and confirming her effect on him as it strained against his slacks.

 

"By making me crash my car?"

 

"You won't," she purred. "You're the safest driver I know."

 

Part of him wanted to be stubborn, to cling to the grudge he'd been holding since dinner. But as soon as she leaned forward to unbutton his pants, that reluctance immediately fled.

 

Caught by a timely red light, Jon took those spare seconds to adjust his seat backward by a couple of inches, pulling his pants down enough that they would no longer get in the way. Already, Dany's hand was inside of his boxer briefs, her fingertips swirling over the smooth skin covering the head of his cock.

 

"Dany," he warned, "Would you mind at least wetting your hand?"

 

"Why?"

 

"It's still a bit sore..."

 

The light had finally turned green and Jon pulled forward, glancing around at the other cars, wondering if anyone else on the road could tell what they were up to. Jon felt suddenly feverish—too hot despite the icy chill that swept over him—the thrill of being on the receiving end of such an act while driving finally setting in and stirring his senses.

 

Beside him, Dany fought the restraint of her seatbelt in order to lean into him, whispering against his ear, "What makes you think I'm going to use my hand?"

 

It was enough to make his cock twitch in anticipation as she bowed her head, using her hands only to guide him into her mouth. He felt the familiar stretch of her lips as she opened to accommodate him. Jon squinted at the road ahead, already squirming in his seat as he relished the soft squish of her tongue against his shaft.

 

_Gods damn it_. Just as she began, they came to another red light, Jon awkwardly bumped her body from underneath as he shifted into neutral, taking extra care not to stall his car in such a crucial moment. Dany kept working him, without a care for who might be spying them. The mandatory stop allowed Jon to sneak a peek of her bobbing head, her braided silver crown still pinned neatly in place. He wanted nothing more than to thread his fingers through it, to use her head and neck the way he pleased—suddenly cursing his insistence on a manual shift and that it required the use of both hands.

 

The light changed much too soon, robbing Jon of the precious sight in his lap. With eyes back on the road, he mustered enough courage to direct her.

 

"Deeper, Dany."

 

Always willing to oblige, she immediately took him further into her mouth with a moan, the constriction at the back of her throat vibrated his entire shaft. He could even feel the surge of saliva that came as a result of such an intrusion, dripping from her mouth and wetting the curls below.

 

"...K-keep going."

 

As instructed, she wriggled him just past her throat, lewdly slurping after each minor gag—the vacuum of her mouth and the tightening of her tongue against the head of his cock making his vision cross, the car in front of him momentarily turning into two.

 

_Concentrate_ , he reminded himself, wrenching one eye open fully as he made a right turn just in time to avoid another red light. They were close to his place, now, conspicuously circling his neighborhood because he was determined to finish on the road.

 

Another right turn, and then another, each minor bump driving him further into her tight throat. And _gods_ , the sounds she was making—sniffling, gulping, and gagging; sharp and ragged intakes of breath each time she came up for air, as if preparing to go underwater. It was enough to make his head spin. He was so close, now, and she, so determined—her breasts knocking against his arms, her ass in the air and swaying, no doubt providing a great view to anyone who dared to peek inside.

 

Cars whipped past as he coasted far below the speed limit, sure that at least one of the angry drivers must've been able to tell what was happening inside his Firebird. Jon waited until he found a decent stretch of road before slowing down further, giving himself enough time to thrust his hips upward, meeting each stroke of her mouth.

 

Pressing his back into the seat, his shaking leg fought with the clutch, his car awkwardly jerking as he came inside of her, grunting like a wild animal as Dany's mouth pulled tightly around him to swallow each spurt. She knew exactly how long to stay latched onto him—letting go just seconds before the wave of pleasure turned to pain. She sucked him completely dry in her retreat, save for the pool of saliva gathered at the base of his cock. A small price to pay, surely.

 

For the remaining two blocks they had left to go before reaching his garage, Dany attentively tucked him back into his boxer briefs, even going so far as to tuck his shirt in before buttoning and zipping up his pants.

 

And just like that, his attitude had completely dissolved, leaving him feeling high and hazy, instead.

 

The pair exchanged no words as Jon parked. Dany waited idly by as he checked his mailbox, and then they rode the elevator up in silence, too.

 

Once inside his apartment, Ghost greeted them as usual, rushing to Dany as he often did. Sinking to her knees, she roughly scratched her nails through his thick fur in just the way he liked.

 

"Who's a good boy?" she asked.

 

Jon chuckled at the tell-tale swat of Ghost's tail against the back of his couch as he wagged it. He walked to the kitchen counter to check the dog walker's note.

 

"Ah. He's been out recently."

 

"Is that so, Ghost?" she asked him, the swats picking up in speed from the attention. "Look at that face! Let's get you a treat."

 

"Dany," Jon scolded. "He almost certainly got one after his walk."

 

"Well, he deserves another one."

 

" _Ugh_."

 

As she clicked her way over the kitchen tiles, she began rummaging through his cupboards in search of treats. Jon, meanwhile, began flipping through his mail.

 

_Bills_ , he thought, sifting through the envelopes, _and more bills_.

 

"What's this?" he asked aloud, spotting an out-of-place and much-too-ornate envelope. Turning it over in his hand, he found the address to his father's estate on the back side.

 

"What's what?"

 

Jon handed it over to Daenerys for inspection. "Oh, the reunion."

 

"Another one? Already?"

 

"It's annual, and considering the last one was a little less than a year ago? Yeah. _Already_."

 

Using her nails, she tore open the invitation, digging it out from the envelope to read it.

 

"It's illegal to open someone else's mail, you know."

 

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah? And so is getting your dick sucked while driving."

 

Jon cleared his throat, his face flushing just from the caliber of the unexpected retort.

 

"Good," she said. "The dates don't conflict with the upcoming break. We can still attend the reunion and go to Lys."

 

"I'm _not_ going to Lys."

 

Irritated, she pressed the invitation into the counter. "Yes," she insisted. "You _are_."

 

"I'm not."

 

"I don't have the energy to argue about this right now," Dany concluded, stepping out from behind the kitchen island in her approach.

 

"Me either," he confessed. "However... I do have the energy to get you out of that dress."

 

She raised a curious eyebrow, "You've been whining about being _sore_ all day."

 

" _Whining_ ," he scoffed. "My mouth feels fine, though. Maybe a little spicy still, from dinner..."

 

Dany bent forward, grinning as she lifted a heel to unbuckle it.

 

"No," Jon batted her hand away to stop her. "Leave them on."

 

"But my nylons..."

 

"Leave those on, too," he grinned, scooping her up into his arms and carrying her into the bedroom.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, the ending was a bit abrupt. Oops! To make it up to you - [here's a NSFW Jonerys drawing I recently completed](https://tomakeitbeautifultolive.tumblr.com/post/179834820393/an-anonymous-bidder-would-like-to-gift-this-work) \- though I bet many of you have already seen it, but hey, not everyone has a Tumblr.
> 
> Oh and anyone wondering what's up with Rhaegar and Lyanna can find that out in [the one-shot I wrote about it](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16219385).
> 
> Alright so. My fics are going to continue to be updated sparsely since I've got about a month to prepare for a cross-country move and I'm not sure what my internet situation will be like on the other side yet, either. Even though I'm slow and horribly distracted lately, I promise none of my fics are abandoned.
> 
> Thanks for anyone who has hung in there and still shows up! I really appreciate it. ♥


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